Learning How to Leap
by Ignitiona
Summary: Everard and his friends dreamed of leaving the Circle Tower one day. None of them could have predicted the circumstances that would eventually free them, though.
1. Bad Things Come in Threes

**Author's Note: **Hello, everyone! This actually the first fanfiction that I've ever written. I absolutely love the world of Dragon Age and its characters. When I got this idea for a story, I was rather happy to just roll with it. Anyway, before the story begins, I just want to say that the first few chapters will be set before the Blight and then it will sort of follow the plot of Origins. And now that I'm done rambling…

_Chapter One: Bad Things Come in Threes_

"Everard," the little girl whispered timidly. She tapped the teenager on the shoulder when he didn't respond to his name.

"What?" The red-headed apprentice replied, glancing up from his book and at the much younger apprentice.

"The templars are at it again," she said quietly.

His dark blue eyes seemed to darken further when she said this. "Well, it certainly took them long enough. He's nearly been back for a week," Everard remarked, shutting the book and standing up. "Where are they this time, Louise?"

"In the library," Louise responded.

Everard shook his head and said, "Lead the way."

Louise nodded and led Everard from the apprentice quarters to the library. They got there fairly quick. Everard managed to spot the two templars shortly after they arrived and he marched over to where they were.

As usual, they were bothering Anders. The mage was well-known for his many escape attempts. It was obvious why he wanted to leave, though. No one stood up to the templars. At least, no one except for Everard.

He was only seventeen years old. He was slender and a bit short for his age but he made up for that with his quick wit and abrasiveness. And he was First Enchanter Irving's apprentice, which made him virtually untouchable in some people's eyes.

Anders was sitting at a table, trying his hardest to read. But the templars just wouldn't leave him alone. Everard shoved one of them away from the other mage.

"Back off, Amell," the templar he'd shoved snarled upon realizing who it was.

"How about you back off, Tanner?" Everard rejoined.

The second templar listened to Everard and backed away but Tanner did not. One of his gauntleted hands balled into a fist and he swung a punch at Everard. The mage easily dodged the hit and moved behind him. Tanner rounded on him but he was stopped as he was coated in a thin sheet of ice by Everard.

"What is going on in here?" Knight Commander Greagoir's voice shouted.

Everard noticed that Anders flinched at the sound of the man's voice. He put a reassuring hand on the mage's shoulder as Greagoir approached. He stopped, however, when he saw one of his templars encased in ice.

"What is the meaning of this?" Greagoir demanded.

"Tanner was just curious about magic is all," Everard answered off-handedly. "I showed him how much fun it can be."

Greagoir's eyes narrowed as he looked at Everard.

"Amell," he growled. "You are coming with me."

Everard shrugged and said, "I don't see why I should."

Greagoir ignored the mage and ordered someone to thaw Tanner out. Everard snickered but was cut off as Greagoir roughly grabbed his arm and led him upstairs to the Senior Mages' Quarters.

Once they reached Irving's office, Greagoir shoved Everard forward and slammed the door shut. Irving was at his desk and he looked up at them. Upon realizing who it was, Irving sighed and asked, "What did he do this time?"

"He froze one of my templars," Greagoir hissed, glaring at Everard.

"His templar was harassing Anders," Everard retorted.

"Is this true, Greagoir?" Irving inquired.

"I must admit, I did not get there in time to see that. However, he—"

"He deserved it," Everard cut in. "Anders hasn't provoked the templars and yet he's constantly harassed by them. Honestly, Irving, why do you think he keeps trying to escape?"

"Enough," Irving said. "Everard, return to your quarters. I will send someone for you when I have decided what to do with you."

Everard crossed his arms over his chest but Irving gave him a stern look. The young mage relented after a moment and left the room, shutting the door on his way out. He didn't do as he was told, however.

OoOoOoOoO

"I can't believe you did that!" Jowan chastised his friend as they sat in an empty bedroom in the Senior Mages' Quarters. The room was dimly lit up by a spell wisp that Anders had cast.

"I'm glad he did," Anders remarked.

Everard propped his feet up on a crate and said, "See, Jowan? Anders appreciates all that I do for him."

Jowan sighed and shook his head.

Naturally, there were age differences between the three mages. Anders was five years older than Everard—they were only friends because Everard had randomly started talking to him when Anders was twelve. Jowan was only two years older than Everard—they had been in the same classes due to Everard's amazing magical abilities. Thus, being older, they had a bit more experience when it came to templars and punishments. Although, Jowan had only started getting into trouble _after_ he befriended Everard whereas Anders was considered a troublemaker long before then.

This was why Anders inquired, "So, how are you being punished this time?"

"Oh, Irving hasn't decided. He wanted to chat with Greagoir first. He told me to go wait in our quarters but…you know how well I listen to orders," Everard answered, smirking.

"You might get into more trouble by disobeying him like this," Jowan commented.

"Yeah, well, he can get over it," Everard grumbled.

"What if they decide to make you Tranquil?" Jowan asked.

Anders gave Jowan a surprised look but then he said, "You know, he has a point. I mean, I'm surprised they didn't do it when you stole some of Wynne's wine, got drunk, and then had Jowan give you those tattoos."

"They don't make you Tranquil for doing stupid shit," Everard sighed. "Anyway, stop talking about it. You're both giving me a headache."

Anders and Jowan exchanged bemused looks.

"Anyway," Everard continued, "if anyone in this room should be Tranquil by now, it's you, Anders."

"It's not like I resist capture," Anders replied. "That's probably why."

"There are plenty of other reasons," Everard muttered thoughtfully. The serious look on his face lasted all of two minutes before he grinned slyly and said, "Hmm. I have the sudden urge to go seduce Cullen. How odd."

"You're so impossible," Jowan grumbled.

"What? He's fun to tease…and the poor man doesn't even seem to realize that I'm flirting with him," Everard responded.

"Why is it that you tempt fate by flirting with the templars anyway?" Anders inquired. "I don't really see the appeal. Well, other than those few female templars. Some of them aren't too bad looking."

"It's harmless flirting…unless they decide that they don't mind breaking their vows or whatever," Everard replied.

"You flirt with everyone, though," Jowan remarked.

"No I don't," Everard denied instantly. "I only flirt with apprentices near my age and older. Anyone below the age of sixteen is off limits."

Anders and Jowan groaned simultaneously.

"You're both just jealous because I've seen more action than either of you have," Everard smirked.

"Wait. I think someone's coming," Anders said, bringing his voice down to barely above a whisper.

The three mages fell silent and listened as creaking footsteps passed by.

"Templars?" Everard whispered, quirking an eyebrow.

Before Anders or Jowan could say anything, Everard stood up and left the room. Anders looked rather surprised but Jowan was shocked. He knew Everard could be impulsive but…he risked exposing their hide-out.

"Oi! You there!" A gruff voice called to Everard as he started walking down the hallway and away from the hiding place.

The young mage turned to face the templar.

"Oh, are you looking for a quick tussle in a storage closet?" He said mockingly.

The templar stared at him in shocked silence. Anders and Jowan sneaked out of their hiding place from behind the man. Everard snickered once they'd disappeared around the corner.

"I was only joking," he smirked.

The templar blinked and then responded, "Irving needs to see you in his office."

"I'll get right on that," Everard replied, heading in the opposite direction of Irving's office.

The templar stopped him by reaching out and gripping his shoulder.

"He needs to see you immediately," the templar declared.

"Alright, alright," Everard said irritably brushing the hand away.

Much to the apprentice's dismay, the templar followed him all of the way to Irving's office. Once he was there, he found that both Irving and Greagoir were waiting for him. They both looked more than a little grim.

_Ah. Solitary confinement must be just around the corner, _Everard thought.

"So, what is it?" Everard asked.

"Sit down, Everard," Irving ordered, gesturing to a nearby chair.

The mage eyed the chair suspiciously and then said, "I'd prefer to stand."

"You'll want to be sitting for what we're about to tell you," Irving replied.

Everard's eyes narrowed but he sat down on the offered chair despite his suspicion of them.

"Your mother is dead," Greagoir stated bluntly once he was seated.

Irving glared over at the Knight Commander and then his face softened when he looked at Everard. "She was killed," the Senior Enchanter added solemnly.

Everard stared at them both in horror. Then, he laughed, which startled the two men.

"That's a bad joke!" He cried. "That's a horrible one, actually. Why would you tell me something like that?"

"It is true," Irving remarked. "Your mother was killed by bandits on her way from Denerim to Lothering."

Everard's face fell and then he stood up. "I want proof then!" He hissed. "Show me proof or I won't believe you!"

Irving looked pointedly at Greagoir. The man sighed and handed Irving a piece of parchment. Irving passed it on to Everard. The young mage snatched it out of the older man's hands. He unfurled the parchment and read the letter to himself:

_My Dearest Everard,_

_If you are reading this, then that means that I am at the Maker's side now. These are my parting words to you:_

_ For years, I was devastated that you were taken from me. But I have come to terms with it, in a way, by reminding myself that you are somewhat safe where you are. Knowing how well you made friends as a child also brought me comfort for I am sure that you have made plenty of loyal friends. I wish you great success in all that you do, my son. _

_ With love forever and always,_

_ Revka Amell_

Everard's hands were shaking by the time that he finished reading. He sat back down in the chair and reread the letter. Then, he looked up at the two men in front of him and said, "I want to go to her funeral."

"You cannot," Greagoir responded.

"Of course I can! She's…she was my mother! She was the only family that I had left! So, yes, I can go to her bloody funeral!" Everard shouted, standing right back up.

"Calm down, child," Irving said soothingly, stepping forward.

"No!" Everard yelled. "I'm not going to calm down! I will go to her funeral even if I have to burn this fucking place to the ground!"

Everard was trembling with rage now. Flames were at his fingertips. Without warning, Greagoir drained Everard's mana. Everard collapsed to the ground, pain shooting through his whole body.

"No," he gasped. "No! Stop it!"

His mana was completely drained now, taking his anger with it and leaving him with his grief. His shoulders shook as he broke down crying..

OoOoOoOoO

For a week, Everard did nothing but eat and sleep. He didn't read, he didn't flirt, and he didn't talk to anyone. Jowan and Anders tried and failed to get him to say something but he shooed them away. The two young men were at a loss. They didn't know what to do for their grieving friend. Jowan had never liked his mother much and Anders could do nothing but sympathize with Everard. And Everard didn't want anyone to pity him.

After two weeks of mourning, Everard started to return back to normal. It was a slow process but, eventually, he was his old self again. That is, until something else happened that changed how he felt about the Circle even further.

8


	2. A Dose of Chaos

_Chapter Two: A Dose of Chaos_

It was a three months after Everard's mother's death when Anders attempted another escape. Everard and Jowan were, as always, slightly amused by his antics. That is, they were until they witnessed him being returned four days later.

He was battered, beaten, and his hands were bound. He cracked a joke to the templar after he was brought in. Everard nearly blasted the templar with a fireball when the man hit Anders. Jowan just barely stopped him from doing so.

"Anders will be fine," Jowan assured him.

But he wasn't. Anders was put into solitary confinement for a year. The moment that Everard found this out, he nearly went to Irving's office to yell at the old man. Jowan convinced him that that wouldn't help matters at all. Everard realized that his friend was right. Arguing with Irving wouldn't free Anders from solitary confinement. Lighting the library on fire wouldn't free Anders either. Nothing would free the young man except maybe if the Circle Tower was overrun with abominations. But Everard didn't want to do something that drastic…

OoOoOoOoO

"You must be mad to even think about doing that," Jowan declared. "Honestly, why would you tempt fate and go down to the dungeons to see Anders?"

"I _am _mad. Furious, even," Everard replied. "Besides that, he's our friend, Jowan. It's been two weeks and it's been killing me to leave him down there alone."

"What if the templars see you?" Jowan demanded.

"Sod the templars," Everard responded.

Jowan sighed and said, "Alright. I see you won't listen to reason. So, tell me, what can I do to help?"

"If anyone comes looking for me, tell them that I'm in the library or that I'm…anywhere but where I'll actually be," Everard answered. "After you lie, though, don't stay where you were because, when they look and don't find me, they'll come back for you. I don't need both of my friends locked up in solitary confinement, after all."

"How are you going to even get down there without being detected?" Jowan asked suddenly. His friend hadn't given him any details of his plan.

"I'm going to pose as a templar," Everard said nonchalantly.

Jowan's mouth gaped open and then he hissed, "Are you insane? If you get caught, you could—"

"I won't get caught," Everard interrupted. "I'm the master of disguise."

Jowan just stared at him in disbelief. Everard flashed him a grin before he left.

OoOoOoOoO

Templar armor was much heavier than Everard had thought it would be. It was a bit hard to move in it as well. But he pulled off the look rather convincingly. He made his way down to the dungeons without any problems. To make things even better, Anders was being guarded by only one templar.

"I'm here to relieve you," Everard said, deepening his voice a bit.

"Oh? That's too bad," the templar replied, sounding put-out. "I wanted to be the one to administer his punishment today."

Everard grit his teeth but didn't break his cover, "Looks like you'll have to wait another day."

"Well, have fun then," the templar said, "and don't go easy on this one."

Everard watched as the templar left, tempted to throw a lightening bolt at him. Once the templar was officially gone, Everard turned to look at Anders. He gasped and stepped back.

Anders looked miserable. He was bloodied and pale and had obviously lost quite a bit of weight. He stared up at Everard balefully.

Immediately, Everard reached up and pulled off the templar helm and threw it on the ground. It made a loud clanging sound but he didn't care.

"Anders, what have they done to you?" He cried, kneeling down by the cell bars.

"E-Everard?" Anders stammered, shocked. "Why are you here?"

"Well, I wanted to see how you were holding up. Now, I just want to light this place on fire and call it a day," Everard responded, forcing a small smile.

"I'm fine," Anders said. "Really, it's alright."

"No," Everard retorted, seeing right through his friend's façade, "nothing is fine or alright. That templar said something about a punishment. What did that mean?"

Anders averted his gaze from Everard and shook his head. "You don't need to do know that. All you need to do is get out of here before you're discovered."

"I might leave if you tell me how they keep finding you," Everard said.

"Incredibly angry, that's how they find me," Anders explained, the humor creeping back into his voice. "This time they found me inside of a brothel called the Pearl. It's a nice place and I had the time of my life."

"That…that's good," Everard muttered. "What's it like outside of the Circle?"

"Cold, open, wet, rainy, and the air smells of wet dog."

"Sounds better than here."

"It is. Now, you should leave before—"

"I knew you weren't a templar!" The man from earlier shouted from behind Everard.

_Shit. I've been caught! Maybe Jowan and Anders were right. Maybe I _am_ insane, _Everard thought, quickly standing back up. He pressed his back against the bars as the templar marched right up to him.

"I know who you are," the templar snarled. "Irving's apprentice!"

"You don't know my actual name do you?" Everard sighed, trying his best to remain calm and collected.

The templar glowered at him and ordered him to take off the templar armor. Everard reluctantly did as he was told. He was silently thankful that he'd worn wool trousers and a tunic under the armor. But he was barefoot now.

"Who did you steal this from?" The templar demanded.

"Who do you think?" Everard rejoined.

The templar grabbed him by the front his shirt and slammed him against the bars of Anders's cell. He repeated his question with more force.

"It was Cullen," Everard answered, grimacing with pain.

"How did you get his armor?" The templar growled.

"How do you think I got it?" Everard replied.

"Everard, please, just tell him," Anders pleaded from behind him. He sounded so small and scared in that moment that Everard couldn't help but relent.

"I stole it from him while he was sleeping," he mumbled.

"Hey, Lionel, I'm here to relieve you," a familiar voice suddenly said.

_Tanner. Of course. Just my bloody luck, _Everard thought, wishing he could be anywhere but there.

"Tanner, come see who I found sneaking around down here," Lionel smirked, turning his head to look at the man. He kept Everard pinned to the cell bars.

"Isn't that Irving's apprentice, Everard Amell?" Tanner asked, looking over Lionel's shoulder.

"Yeah. Little bastard was down here visiting with his secret lover, apparently," Lionel answered.

"Maker's breath, if he was my lover, he'd have to not be the jealous type," Everard retorted without really thinking.

Lionel pressed Everard against the bars harder.

_I am definitely going to be bruised after this, _Everard said to himself.

"What should we do with him?" Lionel asked.

Before Tanner could reply, he was thrown backwards as a stone fist slammed into his chest. Lionel released Everard and stepped back. Everard slid down to the ground and then looked over at Anders. The other mage was panting for breath, glaring defiantly at the templars. A spell wisp was flying around his head, lighting up his cell and making the gold earring in his right ear glint with every breath he took.

"You'll pay for that, mage!" Lionel shouted.

Everard turned his attention back to the templars. Lionel was helping Tanner back up. Before they could get closer, Everard quickly formed a fireball in the palm of his hand and threw it. The blast was enough to send both templars flying into opposite walls. It also shook the surrounding area, causing cracks to form in the ceiling.

Anders's spell wisp abruptly winked out of existence. Everard heard him collapse and quickly stood.

"Anders, are you alright?" He cried, wrapping his hands around the bars.

He saw the familiar blue light of healing magic and then heard a choked, "Yeah. I feel great. I just haven't…cast anything in two weeks."

"I'm going to be in so much trouble now," Everard muttered, turning back to the templars. They were definitely unconscious.

"You could still leave," Anders said encouragingly.

"And let you take the blame for all of this? No, I'd rather stay and accept the consequences of my actions," Everard said. "I can't believe I'm saying this but…I should have listened to Jowan."

"Are you ill?" Anders asked, slightly incredulous. Everard rarely ever listened to Jowan.

Everard chuckled and said, "It appears I am."

OoOoOoOoO

As expected, the explosion attracted the attention of Greagoir and Irving and over half of the templars in the Circle Tower. The Knight Commander and First Enchanter were surprised to see Everard down in the dungeons wearing only a shirt and trousers. They were even more surprised to see the discarded templar armor, the damage the fireball had done, and, most of all, the two unconscious templars.

"What happened here?" Greagoir demanded, glaring at both Everard and Anders.

"Oh, I just came to visit Anders is all. As usual, chaos ensued," Everard answered lightheartedly.

"This is not a joke," Irving said.

"Oh, I know," Everard shrugged.

"You will explain yourself, Amell," Greagoir barked.

"Send your lovely templars away and then I'll feel safe enough to tell you what I've witnessed today," Everard retorted.

Greagoir did as Everard requested. Once he and Irving were alone with the two friends, he demanded to hear the entire story. Everard told him everything from how he stole Cullen's armor to how two templars ended up unconscious. He took the credit for the stone fist spell, though. Anders didn't protest that part. He was just a bit surprised that Everard could so easily and convincingly lie.

In the end, Anders ended up being moved to a cell that actually had a window, albeit a tiny window but a window nonetheless. Tanner and Lionel were punished for abusing their power. Everard was forced to clean the chamber pots for three full months and he started being monitored closely by the templars and even some of the senior enchanters. He was also to write a letter of apology to Cullen for stealing his armor.

Everard felt that his punishment was too lenient for what he'd done. But he didn't voice that opinion to anyone. Although, he did wonder what would happen once he did his Harrowing and was no longer given the moniker of "Irving's apprentice." Would he still be able to get away with so much then?

7


	3. Harrowing

**Author's Note: **I would like to thank everyone that has read and/or commented on this story. I really appreciate it.

This is the chapter where things start following the Origins plot. But it's not going to stick strictly to that since, well, I have plans. Sort of.

_Chapter Three: Harrowing_

For his eighteenth birthday, Everard made himself a new outfit. He was sick of his robes and he wanted to stand out a bit more than he already did. Thus, on his eighteenth birthday, he ditched the robes and donned his new clothes. He had fashioned some doeskin pants lined with soft wool, which he tucked into his fur-lined boots. He also made a black leather vest that fastened up the front and he wore a white linen shirt with it. A black leather belt essentially completed the outfit.

He got all of the supplies to make his new clothes with by actually asking for permission. Irving had decided to humor Everard since the old man probably thought that the young man didn't know how to sew or anything of that sort. Of course, he was wrong.

Naturally, Everard thought that he looked quite dashing and adventurous in his new clothes. Jowan thought that he was just pushing his luck even further by defying the norm.

Yet, despite everything that Everard had done during his time in the Circle Tower, he was called to do his Harrowing. Before Jowan, who was now twenty and who had been in the Tower since he was six years old. They were both more than a little surprised but Everard was optimistic—he figured Jowan would get to do his Harrowing soon enough.

OoOoOoOoO

The Fade. It was obviously the Fade. Everard had just been told that he was entering that place. But, even if he hadn't been told, he would have known where he was because the sky was a sickly green color.

He did not have a staff but that was no surprise.

Everard encountered some wisp wraiths as he walked in the only direction this part of the Fade allowed. After he defeated all three of them with one spell each, he came across a mouse. But it definitely wasn't a mouse. In fact, it morphed into a human who was calling himself Mouse.

"Not your real name I take it?" Everard asked, raising his eyebrows.

Mouse remarked that he could not remember his name for the templars cut him down a long time ago. They had killed him for taking too long during his Harrowing. He went on to talk about how unjust the Circle was and Everard couldn't help but wholeheartedly agree. Mouse decided to follow the apprentice during his Harrowing. Everard was happy to have someone around to actually talk to. Although, he never got to say much because those wisp wraiths seemed to be everywhere.

They met a Spirit of Valor. The spirit told Everard that he'd give him a staff if he could prove his mettle in a fight. Everard remarked that it sounded more like the spirit wanted to kill him himself. This angered the spirit but Everard was persistent. Valor ended up giving Everard a staff without either of them fighting. Everard walked away with a smirk on his face, proud of himself for outsmarting the spirit.

Shortly after that, a pack of ethereal wolves attacked Everard. He sighed and easily picked the three wolves off. The staff certainly helped a bit. Mouse did not offer any assistance during the fights. He seemed to only be able to tell Everard what sort of spirit or demon was lurking nearby.

They soon came across a demon of sloth. Everard wanted it to teach Mouse how to change into a bear. Sloth refused at first but then he said that if Everard could figure out his three riddles then he would teach Mouse his form.

"Riddles? Are you joking?" Everard demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

But Sloth wasn't joking. Everard didn't want to solve any riddles but, for the sake of having some help defeating the demon hunting him, he decided to accept the challenge. If sloth demons could smile, Everard was sure that this one would have. It clearly thought that Everard would never be able to solve his riddles.

Sloth sprouted out the first riddle, "I have seas with no water, coasts with no sand, towns without people, mountains without land. What am I?"

"Couldn't you have picked something harder? The answer is a map," Everard replied, shaking his head.

"Hmph. Correct. Let's move on," Sloth grumbled. "The second riddle: I am often touched, but rarely held. If you have wit, you'll use me well. What am I?"

Everard sighed and said, "My tongue, of course."

"Yes, your witty tongue. Fair enough. One more try, shall we?" Sloth said, sounding slightly irritated. "Often I spin a tale, never will I charge a fee. I'll amuse you an entire eve, but, alas, you won't remember me. What am I?"

"A dream," Everard responded, deadpan. "Maker's breath, I know ten-year-olds who can make up harder riddles."

"Hmph. You are correct. Rather apropos here in the Fade, no?" Sloth said, disregarding Everard's abrasiveness.

With the riddles solved, Sloth taught Mouse how to turn into a bear. As they walked away from Sloth, Everard jokingly asked Mouse, "So, should I call you Bear now?"

When Mouse didn't respond, Everard mumbled to himself, "The Fade is so dull that it's no wonder that demons want out."

At long last, Everard was ready to face the demon that was supposedly hunting him. He'd had his doubts about it until the rage demon popped up. The incredibly-easy-to-defeat rage demon, that is.

_With all of this fuss about the demon, you'd have thought it would have been far harder to kill, _Everard thought.

With the rage demon destroyed, Mouse returned to his human form and began talking. The moment that Mouse said, 'you just have to let me in,' Everard realized that Mouse was more than likely the demon he was actually supposed to face. Everard expressed this to Mouse and the 'spirit' tried to deny at first but then his voice deepened considerably as he said,

"You are a smart one."

"I get that a lot," Everard replied.

"Simple killing is a warrior's job. The real dangers of the Fade are preconceptions, careless trust, pride…"

After he said 'pride,' he began to morph into a demon.

_If I have to fight him now, I'm rather sure that I could kick his ass, _Everard mused as the demon grew.

Once the demon reached his full height, he said, "Keep your wits about you, mage. True tests **never** end."

With that, the demon vanished.

"What? No fight?" Everard said, raising his eyebrows. "Well, I suspect this business is done…oh." His stomach seemed to lurch. "That can't be good."


	4. Just Don't Lie To Me

_Chapter Four: Just Don't Lie To Me_

"That templar, Cullen, said it was the quickest, cleanest Harrowing he'd ever seen!" Everard heard an apprentice, Daphne, saying. "Everard must be so talented…"

But that was all that he heard of the conversation. He was too busy mulling over what he and Jowan had just been talking about. Apparently, Jowan was worried about his own Harrowing and when he'd get to do his. That is, if he got to do it. He mentioned the option of being made Tranquil and how that was _not_ an option he would ever consider. Alas, some mages didn't get a choice and Jowan suspected that he would end up being one of those mages.

Of course, that wasn't the only reason why Jowan had been there when Everard woke up. Jowan's real purpose for being there was to tell him that Irving wished to see him.

_You know, I'm starting to think that Jowan knows more about whether or not he's going to get to do his Harrowing than he's letting on, _Everard concluded after a few minutes.

He sighed and went into the washroom nearby the apprentice quarters. Everard walked over to one of the basins and splashed some water on his face to wake himself up a bit more. Once he felt a bit more awake, he glanced up at the mirror hanging above the basin.

He had several tattoos, two of which were on either side of his face, right beneath his eyes. They were mirrors of each other and had been inked in blue like his other tattoos. The blue ink made his eyes seem to stand out more. Everard liked that since he had his mother's eyes…

"I thought I heard Jowan say that Irving wanted to see you," a voice commented from behind him.

"Oh, hello there, Flora," Everard replied, turning to face the apprentice.

The apprentice folded his arms over his chest and responded, "My name is _Finn._"

"No. Your name is Florian," Everard said. "Anyway, what are you doing in here? I thought that you were a recluse who reads all day and night."

"And I never thought that you'd get to do your Harrowing," Finn retorted.

"Jealous, are you, Flora?" Everard scoffed.

"No," Finn said blankly. "I'm just waiting for you to move so that I can…"

The words died on his lips as he watched as Everard froze the water in the basin. Everard chortled, knowing full well that Finn didn't know how to use fire spells yet.

"There you go then," he smirked as he brushed by Finn.

OoOoOoOoO

Rather than go to Irving's office immediately, Everard began wandering around the Tower for a bit. On his walk, he overheard an interesting conversation between the templars guarding the door outside that involved the local gossip—someone was being made Tranquil later on that day. He listened to another discussion between two apprentices regarding blood magic. _That _was an interesting one, especially since one of the apprentices sounded like he was interested in blood magic.

Everard soon found himself in the library where the apprentices practiced their magic. Right after he entered the library, he witnessed an apprentice accidentally light himself on fire. The instructor sighed and quickly put the fire out. It took almost all of Everard's willpower not to burst out laughing when the instructor suggested that tinder and matches worked just as well as magic.

Eventually, Everard made his way to the First Enchanter's office. He happened to enter the room while Irving and Greagoir were in the middle of an argument. He listened in until another man in the room interrupted them to point out that there appeared to be someone to see Irving.

"Oh, don't mind me," Everard said, grinning slyly. "I love to eavesdrop."

But their conversation had halted altogether. Greagoir left the room, giving Everard a nasty glare on his way out. After he was gone, Irving introduced Everard to the other man. Apparently, this man was a Grey Warden named Duncan. And Irving had clearly been telling Duncan about Everard if the man's reaction upon realizing who he was could be anything to go by.

Once the introductions were finished, Irving gave Everard his mage's robes, a staff, and a ring.

"You do realize that I won't wear these robes, right?" Everard remarked.

Irving just sighed resignedly and asked, "Would you be so kind as to show Duncan to his room?"

"What? Why? Does he not know where his room is?" Everard replied.

"Do not be difficult, Everard. You are a mage now, not an apprentice," Irving responded.

"Yet I am still the same person," Everard rejoined. "But…very well. I'll do as you ask."

"Thank you. His room is—" Irving began.

"Yes, I know where his room is. I talked to the mage preparing it earlier," Everard interrupted.

He wanted to get his task done with quickly. So, he cut through the storeroom as a shortcut to Duncan's room. But then he stopped midway through the room and turned to Duncan. He wanted to know what Irving and Greagoir were arguing about. He managed to wheedle that information from Duncan as well as some more things about the Grey Wardens. Once they reached Duncan's room, Everard continued their conversation and asked him if he'd ever seen someone use blood magic.

Everard had read books on blood magic in secret. He'd noticed that that whole section of the library was gone now. Luckily, he had already read enough on it that he decided to never use it. Upon hearing Duncan's story about his first encounter with a maleficar, Everard's opinion changed slightly. The mage in Duncan's story was only trying to survive. While it was gruesome how the mage had turned the templars against one another, it was still for survival.

_Maybe it's nice as a last resort, _Everard decided as he left Duncan's room. _Hmm. What he said about there being greater threats than blood mages and…everything he said about the Circle is nearly exactly what I've been thinking. Perhaps I should have been nicer when meeting Duncan. Oh, well. I don't want to be a Grey Warden anyway._

That's when he bumped right into Jowan.

OoOoOoOoO

"Abrasive," Everard grumbled to himself as he headed back to the Chapel. "I'm not abrasive. I'm just truthful. Lily **is** a fat cow."

He wouldn't have even gone through the trouble getting a rod of fire if he hadn't realized how happy Jowan was with Lily the Rogue Initiate. She seemed all wrong for him but he was content and Everard wanted at least one of his friends to have a better life than one in the Circle allowed.

As he entered the Chapel, he spotted Keili praying again. He sighed and walked over to her, deciding to give Jowan a bit longer to rethink his love for Lily.

"What are you doing?" Everard asked despite already knowing the answer.

"Oh, hello," Keili replied, standing up. "I am reciting the Chant of Light. It helps to calm me in these dire times. Would you care to join me?"

"No," Everard responded. "I'd rather not."

"I recite the Maker's blessings every day. It brings me peace in troubled times," Keili declared.

Everard had had this conversation with her before. Keili believed that magic was a curse. Everard had argued that it was a gift. He decided that he didn't want to have that argument again, so he bid her farewell and went over to where Jowan and Lily were waiting.

"Did you get it?" Jowan asked, sounding anxious.

"Did you ask an incompetent person to get it?" Everard retorted.

"No?" Jowan said.

"Then, yes, I have it," Everard replied.

Lily made a face and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Are you positive that we can trust him?" Lily inquired.

"I would trust him with my life," Jowan answered matter-of-factly.

"Now that we have that taken care of, can we get this plan over and done with before someone notices us plotting?" Everard said, glancing around the Chapel. It was empty now that Keili was gone, which was…unusual. He didn't mention anything about it, though, since Jowan and Lily were ready to go.

OoOoOoOoO

"Hello!" Everard called down the empty corridor. His echo came back to him and he chuckled.

Lily was staring at him in disbelief and Jowan was shaking his head. Both of them were probably wishing that they hadn't needed his help to escape, especially since Everard had somehow ended up leading them. Although, that was not anything new to Jowan for he was used to Everard being the leader. Lily, on the hand, was less than happy about Everard's leadership.

However, they did notice one thing about their leader. While Everard could be a bit childish, when it came to a fight, he was a fierce fighter. In fact, it seemed as though he did most of the work. This wasn't surprising since Lily had little experience when it came to fighting and Jowan was usually a non-violent person. On the other hand, Everard…

"Hey! I think that's the sixth one I've killed! What are you two doing that you can't help?" Everard remarked after they'd dispatched three more sentinels.

"We **are** helping," Lily hissed, glaring at him.

"Really? Because it doesn't seem like it," he teased, heading towards the door at the end of the corridor.

At long last, they reached a room full of miscellaneous and interesting things. Everard opened a chest in one corner of the room and pulled a staff out of it.

"Oh…look at this," he said, testing the staff out a bit. He made a thin stream of ice shoot out of it and then he grinned.

"This is a keeper," Everard declared.

"I don't think you should take anything out of here," Jowan said.

"It's not like they'll ever know it went missing," Everard shrugged, ditching his old staff in the chest.

He spotted a statue in another corner of the room.

"This place is so neat," he commented, walking over to the statue. Jowan was also drawn towards the statue.

"Jowan," Lily said, touching the man on the shoulder, "I don't think—"

"There's something strange about this statue," Jowan muttered, cutting her off.

And then the statue talked. It said that its name was Eleni Zinovia and that she was once the consort and adviser to Archon Valerius of the Tevinter Imperium. She went on to talk about why she was turned to stone. Lily said that it was evil because of it was from Tevinter. Everard purposely ignored her and listened to the statue. The statue ceased speaking after a few minutes. One short-lived shocked silence later and they were back to trying to find another way into the repository. Jowan noticed that part of the wall in the room was weak and could easily be knocked down.

He and Everard moved away the bookcase in front of the wall. Jowan got the bright idea for Everard to use the rod of fire on a nearby statue of a mabari hound that was directly in front of the crumbling wall. When Everard did as he was told, the wall exploded with a rather loud boom.

"I hope no one heard that," Lily said nervously.

_I wouldn't count on it, _Everard thought.

OoOoOoOoO

"Well, that was fun," Everard declared sarcastically as they exited the repository through the door they'd been unable to open from the outside.

"I wouldn't say it was 'fun,'" Lily rejoined. She apparently had no concept of sarcasm.

_Maker's breath, what does Jowan see in this woman? _Everard wondered as they walked out of the basement.

"We did it!" Jowan cried once they were out. "I could never have—"

But he was cut off by Greagoir and Irving and three templars arriving. Everything started happening so fast. First, Jowan was accused of being a blood mage and was going to be sent for execution. Then, Lily was going to be taken away by templars and…

"No! I won't let you touch her!" Jowan shouted, stabbing his hand.

Blood magic. The very thing he'd denied ever using and there he was stabbing his hand and knocking five men unconscious with just one spell.

"That was—" Everard began.

"—blood magic!" Lily cried, stepping back from Jowan.

"Well, _I_ was going to say—" Everard tried again but he stopped abruptly.

"I-I know, Lily. But, I swear, I'll never use it again. Just, please, let me be with you," Jowan pleaded.

"Stay away from me, blood mage. I don't know you," Lily snarled, the hatred evident in her voice.

Jowan's face fell before he turned and ran away. Everard tried to stop him but Jowan was moving too fast. He was gone within minutes.

Everard rounded on Lily and yelled, "You two-faced bitch! First it's, 'I love you so much.' Then, he uses blood mage _once_ and you're like, 'Stay away!' What is wrong with you? How could you do that to him? He was ready to give up _everything _for you!"

_And I would go with him if I knew I wouldn't be labeled as a maleficar as well, _he added in his head, gritting his teeth.

"Blood magic is evil. It corrupts people," Lily hissed, glaring right back at him.

"Jowan learned blood magic from books," Everard said. "I saw them on Irving's desk and I know Jowan well enough to have confidence that he wouldn't make a deal with a demon." _I've also read those books once before. Blood magic isn't inherently evil. _He didn't say that out loud, though.

"If you know him so well, then how did you not know he was a maleficar?" Lily demanded.

"I knew he was a blood mage the moment that I asked him if he was and he denied it. I could tell that he was lying but I didn't say anything because I really don't care if he's a blood mage," Everard answered.

"You knowingly helped a blood mage escape from the Circle?" Lily said incredulously.

"No. I helped my _friend_ escape. If you could just look beyond the blood mage thing, you'd be able to see what I see. Jowan isn't any different than he was before. Yes, he's a bit more paranoid but that's understandable considering…well, you heard it. They were going to execute him without any actual proof of whether or not he was a blood mage," Everard said, his anger refusing to subside. Although, he knew trying to explain himself to Lily wouldn't work because she would never truly understand.

"But you—" Lily started to say.

"Shut up!" Everard shouted, fire springing to his fingertips. "Just shut up," he repeated, closing his eyes to calm himself. "We need to make sure that these five are alright. So, get over how Jowan is a blood mage and help me."

With that said, he opened his eyes, walked over to Irving, and knelt down beside the old man. Everyone was starting to awaken. Irving groaned and sat up. Greagoir was back on his feet just a minute after he woke up. The other three templars were standing once again as well. Everard helped Irving get up.

"I didn't think Jowan could do that," Everard admitted.

"None of us expected this," Irving said, turning to look at the Knight Commander. "Are you alright, Greagoir?"

"As alright as I can be, considering the circumstances," Greagoir replied. "Now we have a blood mage on the loose and no way to track him down!"

"Yes, Jowan destroyed his phylactery," Everard responded as if there was nothing wrong with that.

Greagoir glared at him and snarled, "And you. You know why the repository exists. Some artifacts—some magics—are locked away for a reason!"

"You didn't take anything from the repository, did you?" Irving asked.

"No," Everard lied and succeeded.

Greagoir decided then that he wanted Lily to be taken away. She was escorted out by the three templars. Greagoir returned his attention to Everard.

"Your antics have made a mockery of this Circle!" Greagoir said. "Ah…what are we do with you?"

Everard decided to take a chance and so he replied, "Do what you like. I stand by my decision to help Jowan."

"You helped a blood mage escape!" Greagoir nearly shouted. He managed to keep his voice down a bit, though.

"It's so nice to have the obvious pointed out to me," Everard sighed.

Before Greagoir or Irving could think of what to do with him, Duncan appeared. He gave Everard a mysterious look before he declared,

"I am not only looking for mages to join the army but I am also looking for Grey Wardens."

"Duncan," Irving retorted, "this mage has assisted a maleficar, and shown a lack of regard for the Circle's rules."

He didn't add "on more than one occasion" to that last bit. But Duncan didn't appear to care about that. He still wanted Everard to join and Everard was more than happy to leave the Circle. He was just disappointed that Anders would still be trapped there.

_Knowing him, he's probably thinking up his next escape plan, _Everard thought. That's what he wanted to convince himself of, at least.

OoOoOoOoO

Camping outside was not necessarily a new experience for Everard but it still fascinated him. Being able to see the sunset again was nice but seeing the stars again gave Everard that deep feeling of freedom. _True_ freedom.

While he was reacquainting himself with the outdoors, Duncan began to set up camp on his own. Everard noticed this and decided that he wanted to help somehow, so he lit the campfire with his magic. Duncan didn't say anything when he saw the fire.

But what he did finally say startled Everard, "I heard what you told Lily."

"I saw your friend run by, so I went to see what was happening," Duncan continued without noticing Everard's brief shock. "You risked quite a bit in order to help him."

"That's what I do," Everard responded. "I help my friends when they need me. I don't doubt that Irving told you all about the incident a year ago involving my other friend, Anders."

"Yes. He told me about that," Duncan replied.

"I knew what they were going to do to Anders and me," Everard said. "I couldn't let that happen. Granted, it's already happened to Anders but…I could not allow that if I could stop it." Everard paused and then added, "He's still there…in solitary confinement. All because he wants to be free. But I think that, one day, he will be free. He'll be an apostate but I doubt he cares about that. Speaking of which, am I an apostate now?"

He sounded almost excited at the prospect of being an apostate.

"You are a mage outside of the Circle," Duncan answered. "So, yes, you could say you are an apostate. However, you will be a Grey Warden soon enough."

"Ah, but I'll still be an apostate," Everard shrugged.

Duncan chuckled softly and replied, "I suppose that's true."


	5. A Chance Encounter

**Author's Note: **I'd like to say thank you so much to those reading, reviewing, favoriting, alerting etc. I'm glad that there are people who are enjoying the story.

The chapters will probably start coming out less frequently since I'm almost caught up to where the written story currently is. Technically, there are eight chapters written but I'm rewriting chapter seven. Well, more like adding on to it. Anyway, that's enough rambling from me…

_Chapter Five: A Chance Encounter_

Freedom was more than nice. But the price that it came at for Everard seemed devastatingly high.

He had been the only one out of three to survive the Joining. He and Alistair—an almost-templar that actually had a sense of humor—were the only Grey Wardens to survive the battle at Ostagar. They only survived because of Flemeth, the legendary Witch of the Wilds. _That_ had certainly surprised Everard. He had read stories about Flemeth but he'd never truly believed that she was real. But she was and, not only that, she had a daughter named Morrigan. If Everard could become any more fascinated by the world around him, finding out that a legend was real was the icing on the cake.

Having said legend send her daughter with him and Alistair just made things even more surreal. Although, Alistair wasn't sure about taking Morrigan along. She was an apostate, he said. Everard chose that moment to remind the almost-templar that he was an apostate as well. That had certainly shut Alistair up.

So, this was why, scant days after leaving the Circle Tower, Everard found himself traveling with two _very_ different people. They were headed for Lothering, the place where his mother had dwelled. The place she had been going to when she was murdered. He pushed those thoughts away and tried to focus on something else.

He didn't have to wait very long before something else was thrown into his path. Or, more accurately, it ran towards him with its tongue hanging out…and it was followed closely by several darkspawn. Everard and his companions quickly killed the darkspawn and then they turned their attention upon the 'distraction.'

"I think that this is the mabari hound that I helped at Ostagar," Everard declared. "I was told he could imprint to me but…I didn't think the hound actually would."

"It seems that's what has happened," Alistair pointed out.

"Is that mangy mongrel going to be joining us?" Morrigan asked with distaste.

"He's not mangy," Alistair said, sounding almost like a small child.

"Well, if he's going to stay he'll need a name," Everard declared. He looked thoughtful for a moment and then he beamed. "Barkley!" He exclaimed. "What do you think of that name, Barkley?"

The mabari hound let out a happy bark and Everard chuckled, "Barkley it is then."

Morrigan looked skyward and sighed. She was probably wondering why Flemeth had sent her with the two slightly childish men.

Everard noticed the look on her face and he said, "At least I didn't name him Mr. Wiggums."

Neither of his companions missed the sad look that crossed over his face for an instant after he said that. Alistair opened his mouth to ask who Mr. Wiggums was but Morrigan gave him a look that made him snap his mouth shut.

OoOoOoOoO

Minus the bandits and refugees, Lothering had probably once been a nice place to live. Everard couldn't ever remember having been there, though.

_I only have the Chantry and templars to blame for that, _he reminded himself.

As they passed by a woman and her son, Everard heard the woman say as she embraced the young man, "Thank the Maker you're safe, Carver!"

The sound of her voice sounded almost familiar but Everard shook his head because _that was impossible._ She probably just reminded him of someone from the Circle Tower. Any other possibility was unlikely.

"Everard?" Alistair said suddenly. "Are you alright?"

The mage was startled by that question and so it took him a moment before he replied, "Yes. I'm fine. Why?"

"You looked…" Alistair trailed off, uncertain of what word he wanted to use to describe how Everard looked.

But Morrigan chimed in with, "You looked distressed." She didn't sound the least bit concerned, though.

"It's…nothing," Everard muttered. "I think I need some time alone, actually. I'll try not to burn the Chantry down or anything, alright?" He gave his companions a small, reassuring smile before he wandered off.

As he rounded the corner of a house, he accidentally bumped into a dark-haired young woman.

"Oh!" She cried. "I'm so sorry about that." Then, she gave him a strange look and asked, "Do I know you?"

Everard stared at her, wondering why she would ask that question…and wondering why he had a strange feeling of dread.

But he managed to muster up his charming smile and he answered, "Oh, no. I'm rather new to the area."

If he thought about it, she was rather pretty. Her amber eyes were stunning and…

"I figured as much," the young woman replied, interrupting his thoughts. "But I had to ask since you look awfully familiar."

"To be honest, I lived here once before…a long time ago," Everard responded. "I don't remember much about it, though."

The young woman was staring at him and her eyes traveled to…

"Oh! Your arm!" She cried, pointing at it.

Everard looked and saw that he had a shallow gash on his right arm.

_Must've received that during the fight with the bandits, _he thought as he absentmindedly healed it.

Now the young woman was _really_ staring at him. She looked shocked, actually. It was at that moment that Everard remembered that most people didn't openly do magic.

"I…uh…" he floundered for something to say but he couldn't.

"You're a mage," she said much quieter than Everard had expected.

"I'm a Grey Warden as well," he admitted.

She gasped and asked, "Do you know that…Loghain put out a bounty on the Grey Wardens?"

"What?" Everard replied. It was his turn to be shocked.

"Loghain blames the Wardens for what happened at Ostagar. He said his troops pulled out just in time because…the Wardens betrayed the King," the young woman explained. "I…I won't tell anyone who you are since I don't believe what they said. But I suggest you don't tell anyone else that you're a Warden. Things could get dangerous…"

"I am not the only Warden here. I…need to go warn him. Thank you for telling me about that. I never would have known otherwise," Everard said quickly.

Before he could walk away, the young woman reached out and gently touched his shoulder. "Please, be careful," she said.

Everard knew that those words meant more than they implied. Even he could see how the combination of being a Grey Warden and a mage could lead him into more danger. It wasn't just darkspawn he'd have to worry about now…

OoOoOoOoO

Alistair and Morrigan were bickering again when Everard found them. They were apparently talking about one another's mothers.

"There's nothing to talk about. And besides, isn't your mother a scary witch who lives in the middle of a forest? Much more interesting," Alistair was saying as Everard approached.

"To you, perhaps. You would find the moss growing upon a stone interesting," Morrigan replied in a clipped tone.

"You know what's more interesting than that? Apostates. Mages outside of the Tower. That's illegal, you know," Alistair said matter-of-factly.

"You did not read that in a book somewhere, did you? I hope the small letters did not strain you overmuch," Morrigan remarked, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Or we could not talk about your mother. That works for me," Alistair muttered sheepishly.

It was then that he spotted Everard. The mage looked even more troubled than he had earlier. Before he could ask what was wrong, Everard told him about Loghain blaming the Wardens for the king's death. Alistair was appalled by this accusation.

"Who was it that told you this?" Morrigan inquired.

"It doesn't matter," Everard answered. "We just need to be more careful from now on."

OoOoOoOoO

"Is this being more careful?" Alistair asked as they left the Chantry. "Threatening a priest is being careful?"

"Oh, I found it to be quite amusing," Morrigan commented.

"Think of it as this, Alistair," Everard said. "We're going to have even more aid defeating the darkspawn if this Qunari truly wants to join us."

"But threatening a revered mother?" Alistair replied. "Honestly, sometimes I wonder about you…"

Everard had enjoyed threatening the priest, though. Maybe more than he should have. But defying the Chantry and its laws was fun. He'd already insulted a priest at Ostagar and _that_ had been hilarious, especially after she called him a heathen.

Honestly, though, he'd known that threatening the revered mother was the only way he was going to get the key to the Qunari's cage. That and the Qunari didn't deserve to be torn apart by darkspawn even if he _had_ massacred a family. Everard figured that there was more to the story than that. The Qunari must have had some reason to snap like that.

When the reached the cage, the Qunari seemed honestly surprised that the revered mother had given up the key. Everard managed to convince him that he was being released into the Grey Wardens' custody. Once he was free, the Qunari finally told Everard that his name was Sten.

Sten also mentioned that he felt that he could…redeem himself for the murders he'd committed by helping Everard defend against the Blight. He also mentioned that he thought that the Grey Wardens were…well, Everard and Alistair apparently didn't meet his vision of what Grey Wardens were. Everard was only slightly insulted by that merely because he could sort of understand how Sten felt.

After recruiting Sten, Everard wasn't quite ready to leave Lothering. Of course, he also had to scrounge up some armor and a sword for Sten since he didn't have anything. Recruiting his help would be useless if he didn't have some way to defend himself.

OoOoOoOoO

The man outside of Dane's Refuge had warned them that there were unsavory characters inside. He'd just failed to mention that they were Teyrn Loghain's men.

Naturally, the men knew who they were and they wanted a fight, so Everard decided to grant their wish. Everard was pleased when the men surrendered after only a few minutes of battle. But then they'd had some help from possibly one of the most unlikely people: a woman dressed as a sister of the Chantry. When the men were gone—with a message to Loghain to send someone better next time—the sister walked over and said,

"I apologize for interfering, but I couldn't just sit by and not help."

"I didn't know that sisters could fight like that," Everard responded.

She seemed unfazed by this comment and declared, "Let me introduce myself. I am Leliana, one of the lay sisters of the Chantry here in Lothering. Or I was."

"Right. Is there something you wanted from me?" Everard asked.

Apparently, there was something that she wanted. She wished to accompany Everard and the others on their quest to quell the Blight. Everard outright refused her offer of help, however. He didn't need someone that was devout to the Chantry following him around. She'd probably nettle him and pick apart every one of his decisions. Leliana was disappointed but she told him to think about it a bit longer before he truly made up his mind.

OoOoOoOoO

They left Lothering shortly after meeting Leliana. Everard had blatantly ignored the Chanter's Board, although he'd harassed the chanter there and made the poor man say something other than the blasted Chant of Light. As if the Maker enjoyed irritating Everard, they ran into Leliana again as they headed back to the Imperial Highway.

"Oh, hello again!" Leliana greeted cheerfully. "So will you let me join you? Will you let me come?"

"You again? You can't take a hint, can you?" Everard sighed.

Leliana made her point again, that the Maker wanted her to help them.

Before Everard could say anything about that, Alistair remarked, "Her plea seems wholehearted and even though she seems a little…strange, she does have skill. I vote to let her come along."

"Alistair, she's one archdemon short of a Blight," Everard responded.

"Yes, but she seems more…'Ooh! Pretty colors!' than 'Muahaha! I'm Princess Stabbity! Stab, kill, kill!'" Alistair replied.

Leliana raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms over her chest.

Everard laughed and said, "Very well, Alistair, if you insist."

Oh, the look on her face when he said that. It was worth all of the gold in Thedas. He didn't get to enjoy that for long, though. There was a cry from the path up ahead. Two dwarves were being cornered by a small pack of darkspawn and Everard was more than happy to fight them off.

He began to wonder if his eagerness for battle was a bad thing as he lit three of the darkspawn on fire.

Naturally, the dwarves were very thankful for Everard and his band of misfits' help. Everard had never seen a dwarf before but he had read about Orzammar. In fact, he'd been rather bookish when he was a little boy…it had just seemed like he was always in trouble…

"If you don't mind my asking," the older dwarf, Bodahn, said, "where are you headed? Perhaps we are going to the same way."

"Oh, I doubt that you'll want to travel with a Grey Warden," Everard replied.

"Ah, you're probably right," Bodahn responded. "Well, good bye then."

"Good bye," his son, Sandal, said.

OoOoOoOoO

Apparently, Everard was actually wrong about the dwarves. Moments after they set up camp in a small clearing, Bodahn and Sandal appeared with their wagon. Bodahn double-checked with Everard to make sure that it was alright for him and his son to camp with them. There were so many benefits to having a merchant right in camp that Everard allowed them to stay.

He would later find out that Sandal was more than he appeared to be. He could enchant things, which Everard thought was strange. Usually only mages could do that and, the last time Everard checked, dwarves were unable to use magic.

_As long as he doesn't turn out to be the first dwarven mage and decides to massacre a village, then I don't care why or how he can enchant things, _Everard thought to himself as he glanced at the simple-seeming dwarf.


	6. The Ties That Bind

**Author****'****s****Note:**Once again, I'd like to say thank you so much to those reading, reviewing, favoriting, alerting etc.

Chapter seven is still in the works. It will be one of the longer chapters, actually. At least now I will have more time to work on it since my college work has lessened somewhat lately. Also, if you notice anything odd about the things written in bold or italics, please let me know. I've tried to fix it but nothing seems to work.

_Chapter Six: The Ties That Bind_

Everard was fidgeting with the ring that Morrigan had given him three days ago. He didn't understand what this gesture meant since she had said it was mainly for practicality; if he was lost or taken, she would be able to find him with the ring. It wasn't given to him out of love. Of course, he hadn't expected anything to come from their one night together.

But now was not the time for those thoughts. He, Alistair, Barkley, and Leliana—who turned out to be adept at picking locks and knew how to handle a bow—were infiltrating Redcliffe Castle in order to find out what was going on and who was summoning the walking corpses. They had gone through a rather convenient tunnel that led to the castle dungeons.

Up ahead, Everard heard a cry for help and spotted three walking corpses trying to get at someone locked in one of the cells. He was briefly reminded of the dungeons in the Circle Tower but then the cry for help became more frantic and he pushed those thoughts away.

"Stay back," Everard ordered Alistair and Barkley.

"What? But we need to help whoever that is!" Alistair cried.

"I know," Everard rejoined, summoning a fireball. "I just don't want you to get burned, see?"

He launched the fireball at the moving corpses and watched in satisfaction as they went down immediately. They were either weaker than the other walking corpses or Everard was getting more powerful.

"Hello? Is someone there? Who is it?" The voice that had been crying for help asked upon realizing that the corpses were…dead again.

_Maker__'__s__breath__…__is__that__…__no.__It__can__'__t__be.__Surely__he__isn__'__t__that__…__he__is,_Everard thought as he rushed over to the cell. He stopped in his tracks when he saw his old friend.

"By all that's holy…you!" Jowan cried. "I can't believe it…"

"Took the words right out of my mouth," Everard replied.

"Maker's breath! How did you get here? I never thought I'd see you again, of all people," Jowan responded, the shock evident in his voice.

"So you're the mage Lady Isolde mentioned," Everard remarked.

"You've spoken with her. Then…you know I…poisoned Arl Eamon. For all I know, he'd already dead," Jowan muttered.

"He's not dead—at least not yet," Everard said.

"He's not?" Jowan replied, casting his eyes down. "I can't tell you how much of a relief that is." He looked back up and continued, "Please, I know how it seems. Poisoning the arl was…a terrible thing. But I'm not behind everything else happening here, I swear!"

"I know you aren't," Everard declared. "You were probably imprisoned long before the corpses started coming back to life. I just want to know why you poisoned Eamon and how this all started."

So, Jowan explained how Loghain had asked him to poison Eamon, how it had turned out that Connor, Eamon's son, was a mage, and how Lady Isolde had hired him to secretly teach their son magic. He also mentioned that Connor could possibly have sundered the Veil, which may have caused all of the chaos happening in Redcliffe.

"I see," Everard said after Jowan finished. "I think I understand."

"The arl's a decent man. I wondered how he could possibly be the threat Loghain said he was, but I did it anyway. I'm such a fool," Jowan muttered sheepishly.

Everard bit back the sarcastic remark that he wanted to make and instead he replied, "Everyone makes mistakes."

"Mistakes like mine? I've just messed everything up. My entire life. I've made such bad decisions," Jowan retorted. "I'm just sick of running away and hiding from what I've done. I'm going to try to fix it, any way I can."

"I know you want to do that," Everard sighed, running a hand through his short hair.

"I want to at least do one thing right with my life," Jowan pleaded. "Please, help me do that."

Everard knew that if he let Jowan fix everything that he would be redeemed. Yet, he could also end up executed for poisoning Eamon or be sent back to the Circle. He couldn't let that happen.

"I'm letting you out of your cell," Everard announced, freezing the locks and breaking them. The door swung open with a loud creak.

"You're letting me out? And what then?" Jowan asked, not moving from his spot.

This was going to be the hardest thing Everard would ever say but he knew it was the only way to get Jowan to escape, "Run. I don't want to see you again. Ever."

After having been silent for this whole exchange, Alistair chose this moment to speak up, "Are you truly suggesting just…letting him go? A dangerous blood mage?"

_You__don__'__t__even__know__him,_Everard thought._He__isn__'__t__even__close__to__dangerous__…__not__if__he__doesn__'__t__want__to__be,__at__least._

"I won't leave him here to die. Would you?" Everard demanded, glaring over his shoulder at Alistair.

"I…I guess not," the almost-templar stammered.

"Then…then I'll go," Jowan said, sounding a little hurt. "I'm sorry things ended this way. I…hope I see you again one day, under better circumstances."

He started to leave the cell but Everard stopped him and inquired, "Before you leave, I just want to know…why you turned to blood magic."

Jowan sighed and answered, "You'll probably laugh but…it's because…because of you, really. I have to admit. I've always been a little jealous of your ability. I knew I'd never be as great a mage as you are. In a moment of weakness…I thought blood magic would give me more power…more control. Isn't that stupid?"

Everard couldn't help but chuckle and say, "Oh, you have no idea."

"I…what?" Jowan was clearly confused.

Everard smirked, "I'll tell you another day. Now then, get out of here. And, remember, I don't want to ever see you again." He nearly chuckled again since those two statements contradicted each other.

Jowan just stared at him for long moment until Everard prompted him to leave again. Everard watched as Jowan ran the way they'd just come from. He hoped that his friend would be alright.

OoOoOoOoO

As it turned out, Connor actually was the one who had summoned the moving corpses into being. In fact, he was possessed by a desire demon. At first, Everard did not know of a way that the situation could end well. Connor was still inside his own body, though, which, in retrospect, was a good thing.

It was at that realization that Everard remembered reading about how one mage could be sent into the Fade to kill the demon possessing someone. He would just need a lot of mages and plenty of lyrium, which meant that they would have to go to the Circle Tower and request Irving's help. While he didn't ever want to go back there, it was inevitable that he'd have to return since one of the treaties compelled the Circle to aide the Wardens.

This was how Everard found himself camping outside of the small village near Lake Calenhad. Once their small camp was set up, he began making health poultices by the campfire. He used a wooden mortar and pestle to grind up some elfroot. With that accomplished, he mixed the ground-up elfroot in a vial with some water and a touch of honey in it. The honey made the poultice taste less disgusting. He sensed someone watching him as he did this and looked up to find Leliana staring at him.

"Do you need something?" He asked.

"No," Leliana answered. But she kept watching him.

"That's distracting, you know," he remarked, shaking up his freshly-made healing poultice slightly.

"I was just thinking that you are far nobler than I originally thought you were," Leliana commented, sitting down beside him.

"And you are far less preachy than I thought you would be," Everard retorted, setting the mortar and pestle aside.

Leliana rolled her eyes and then she said, "You know, I have noticed how you look at Morrigan…"

"We coupled once and it will likely never happen again," Everard replied sharply.

"I just did not think that you would choose Morrigan," Leliana responded. Clearly _this_ was what she'd really wanted to talk about.

"Jealous, are you?" Everard asked, glancing at her.

"No," she said with conviction. "More like…I thought you were more likely to approach Alistair instead."

Everard laughed right out loud until he realized that she was being serious and then he abruptly stopped.

"Maker, Leliana, that's just _wrong_ on so many levels," he replied, shaking his head. "I mean that…I think of him as a brother. Yes, when we first met, I _did_ flirt with him but that man wouldn't know if someone were flirting with him even if they drew a picture of where they wanted to touch him. In fact, he'd probably ask what it was a drawing of."

Leliana barely managed to smother her laughter. Everard figured that he had conjured up an interesting image for her. Alistair glanced over at them suspiciously and Leliana couldn't contain her laughter any longer. Everard started making another health poultice, choosing to ignore her.

"What's so funny over there?" Alistair demanded, walking over.

"I told her that templar joke," Everard lied easily as he mashed more elfroot.

"What templar joke?" Alistair asked, sounding a little intrigued.

"I'll tell you later," Everard answered, focusing his full attention on the poultice. "Unless you'd rather I forget a step to making this and it explodes rather than heals."

"Uh...I don't think it would ex—" Alistair began.

Everard looked up at him and interrupted, "Are you an expert in herbalism suddenly? Oh, good. Then you can start making the potions, poultices, and such yourself."

Alistair stared at him in disbelief and Everard chuckled, "I was joking…sort of."

Before Alistair could say anything further, Leliana suddenly asked, "Did you ever try to escape from the Circle Tower?"

Everard's face fell at that question but he still answered it, "Yes. I did. Once."

Alistair sat down beside Leliana. They were both looking at him expectantly. Everard sighed and elaborated,

"One of my friends, Anders, was always trying to escape from the Tower. He was brought back every time. When I was thirteen and he was eighteen, he offered me the chance to escape with him. He also offered it to Jowan but he was a stick-in-the-mud and, as he put it, 'responsible.' I find that funny now since he was the one who turned to blood magic.

But anyway, Anders and I made it out of that place. We stole a rowboat and went across the lake that way. Anders sprained his ankle, though, as we hastily left the boat. So, leadership fell to me. We were going to try to go to Redcliffe or Lothering but, since I was the leader, we ended up in Highever. In case none of you have noticed, I'm directionally challenged. At least, that's what Anders called it.

We were gone for nearly two weeks. We survived through our combined skills of stealing and quick thinking. The first thing that we stole was some new clothes. Our robes were dirty and torn by the time that we reached Highever and the robes screamed, "I am an escaped mage!" We thought it wise to disguise ourselves as peasant boys. To further our disguises, Anders let his hair out of its leather tie and then he messed my hair up so that it looked a bit like yours, Alistair. Then, we managed to steal enough silvers to stay at an inn and live like kings. At least, we felt that way. In reality, we only had fifty-seven silvers combined.

We shouldn't have been found, we thought. But they used our phylacteries. We were hauled back to the Circle Tower in chains. They were rough with both of us but they were especially cruel to Anders. Once we returned to the Tower with our templar escort, we learned that Irving and Greagoir had already decided on our punishment for escaping.

Our hands were already manacled, so it was fairly easy for them to punish us for our transgression. We wouldn't be able to struggle, at least. The templars cut off the sleeves of our shirts and then burned our right arms with a hot poker three times on that spot between our elbows and shoulders. Let me tell you, that spot is probably one of the most sensitive areas on your arm.

Anyway, they burned Anders and me in the same spot on our arms. It was so that we could be 'like brothers,' since that was what we'd convinced everyone in Highever of. Words cannot describe how painful that was to experience.

The scars used to be obvious but, when Jowan and I got drunk at ages eighteen and sixteen…let's just say that Jowan is an artistic tattoo artist when he's drunk and he covered up the scars with an intricate tattoo that semi-matches the ones on my face. He also gave me a tattoo of my family crest on my right shoulder blade. Ah…good times. At least, they were until the next morning when Irving found out. He figured, though, that taking care of a hungover Jowan while having freshly inked tattoos was enough of a punishment for me. Oh, poor Jowan. He can't hold his liqueur at all.

And that's the story of my first and only escape attempt from the Tower with the added bonus of how I got my tattoos."

Alistair and Leliana just stared at him in disbelief and horror.

"You were only thirteen," Alistair finally managed to say.

"I could tell you what the templars have done to Anders every time he escaped. His first one was when he was twelve. While that was before we were friends, he still told me what happened. Apparently, the templars beat him so badly that first time that his whole face swelled up. It took a healer two hours to get the swelling down," Everard responded.

Alistair's horrified look remained but Leliana had regained her composure.

"How many times has Anders escaped?" Leliana inquired.

"By the last count, seven times. After the last one, he was thrown into solitary confinement and…er…let's just say I wasn't happy about that and things happened and he was moved to a cell with a tiny window instead," Everard answered.

"I…can't believe…I never thought…" Alistair trailed off.

"Yes, most people don't realize that the Circle Tower is merely a gilded cage. In fact, we used to be allowed to go outside until Anders swam across Lake Calenhad during escape number four. Then, they took that privilege away. After that, the only fun things to do were get drunk, play practical jokes on the templars, have a quick tussle in a corner or somewhere secluded, or make up templar jokes. I did all of those things because, otherwise, I might have gone a little crazy," Everard said. "Also, they only ever really punished troublemakers. Unless you ran into one of those exceedingly corrupt templars that hated all mages. I suspect that those ones got to a girl I once knew. She believes that magic is evil and that we deserve any punishment that we get."

He paused thoughtfully and then added, "Anyway, I think that's all I'll say for now. I still have a couple more things to make before I have to sleep."

Leliana and Alistair just nodded slowly.

_You__can__only__imagine__how__happy__I__was__when__Duncan__and__I__left.__I__just__didn__'__t__realize__what__the__price__of__my__freedom__was__until__it__was__too__late,_ he added to himself as they wandered away.

He didn't think he could ever say those words out loud to anyone, though.


	7. You Are Not My Savior

**Author****'****s****Note:**Once again, my bold and italics print has messed up. Is there some way to fix this?

_Chapter Seven: You Are Not My Savior_

A sharp intake of breath was the only indication that Everard was affected by the carnage in the Circle Tower. Abominations and blood mages had taken it over. Greagoir was adamant about annulling the place but Everard had told him that there had to be survivors because, after all, mages weren't as defenseless as the templars thought.

Greagoir had taken a much more realistic viewpoint, "Why hope for survivors only to have that hope crushed?"

Everard had ignored him and marched right through the double doors, glaring at the templars guarding it on his way inside. Alistair, Leliana, and Barkley had followed after him hesitantly.

They walked through the two large rooms that held the bunk beds of apprentices, most of whom were probably dead. Everard stopped in front of his old bunk and reached underneath the mattress.

"Oh, good, it's still here," he muttered, pulling out several pieces of parchment bound together with a red ribbon. He tucked them away in a pocket on his vest and smiled to himself.

"E-Everard?" Alistair stammered, startled to seeing him smiling in the mist of chaos and death.

"I know how inappropriate it must seem for me to be smiling at a time like this," Everard said, "and I apologize. It's just…when Duncan and I left, we were in such a rush that I forgot all about these."

"Is this the only reason why you wanted to come in here?" Leliana demanded, suddenly sounding a little angry. Everard was acting so flippant…

He turned to face her and looked her right in the eyes, "It hurts that you think I am so selfish and bitter that I would only come for these letters and nothing more. I may despise this place but I loathe the Chantry far more. Also, the fact that Greagoir sent for the Right of Annulment without knowing whether or not there were any survivors…it sickens me, to be honest. I grew up with most of these people. I may not have cared for them that much but knowing that they would be mercilessly slaughtered merely because some idiot decided to use blood magic for evil…_that_ is why I went through those doors. Getting the letters is just a bonus."

Then, as an afterthought, he added, "And don't tell me that blood magic is evil no matter what because…you saw Jowan and you saw how little he resembled the image the Chantry paints of maleficarum."

With that, Everard left the quarters. Alistair and Leliana shared bemused looks with each other before they hurried to catch up to him.

OoOoOoOoO

It felt like years since Everard had last seen Wynne and—Maker's breath—Keili. But it had been less than a month, surprisingly enough. Naturally, when Everard and his companions appeared, Wynne was suspicious. She actually thought that Everard was going to help the templars raze the Circle. When Everard told her the true reason for them being there, Wynne seemed slightly surprised. Everard couldn't help but feel a bit insulted by that.

Despite what she'd originally thought of him, Everard still decided to let her join his small group of companions. However, he left Barkley behind in exchange for Wynne since _someone_had to stay behind and help the three remaining mages protect the children. That and Wynne was apparently a spirit healer, which would prove far more useful than a mabari. Granted, Barkley had proved his mettle in battle but…it would be nice to have someone who knew a spell beyond the average healing one. In fact, Wynne apparently knew every healing spell created.

Everard found this out the hard way when an abomination got too close to him for comfort and then it proceeded to slash at him. Everard blocked the hit with his _arm_ and that had certainly hurt. The abomination was taken out with a barrage of arrows from Leliana. Wynne healed Everard's injury so well that the wound seemed to have never existed at all. It made Everard wish that he had studied healing magic more instead of primal, spirit, and blood magic.

"You know," Everard said after they slew yet another contingent of abominations and shades, "I am beginning to feel rather unwelcome. Then again, I wasn't exactly expecting to come back to the Tower. Even if I was, I couldn't possibly have predicted _this_ would happen."

No one said anything. This probably due to the fact that they already knew that this was the fault of Uldred, a man that was the stereotypical blood mage. Not that that was much of a surprise. It figured that someone would live up to the templars' expectations of a maleficar.

_All__the__more__reason__to__subjugate__us,_Everard thought bitterly.

"Watch out!" Leliana suddenly cried. "A trap!"

She was a little late with her warning, however. Everard stepped right on the trip wire that set off a small explosion. The young man was thrown into the opposite wall with a painful sounding crunch. Naturally, the explosion attracted a small group of walking corpses. Before Wynne could get off a healing spell for Everard, the creatures descended upon them.

Everard watched as Alistair bashed a corpse with his shield. He could see the darkness hovering at the edges of his vision. He willed himself to stay conscious but his mind clearly did not want to listen because his world darkened completely.

OoOoOoOoO

"Bethany!" A woman's voice laden with despair shouted.

This definitely wasn't the Circle Tower anymore. Everard found himself somewhere he didn't recognize; a flat part of an otherwise rocky and mountainous area. When that voice cried out, though, he looked around and saw the source.

An older woman was cradling the head of a dark-haired young woman. An ogre was pounding away from them and towards three others—a red-haired woman, a young man with auburn hair, and another young man with the same dark hair as…Bethany. It dawned on Everard that she was the girl who had warned him about Loghain's lies, the one who had…the one he'd barely known. Yet, he couldn't help but feel great sadness at seeing her lying there in what could only be her mother's lap. She was gone, just like so many others…

Before Everard could try to lash out and kill the ogre himself, he was drawn back to where he was supposed to be by Alistair's voice asking,

"Is he going to be alright?"

Everard's eyes shot open and he felt…ill. He put a hand to his head and then answered Alistair with, "Yes. I'm fine."

Alistair let out a sigh of relief but then Leliana inquired,

"Who is Bethany?"

He gave her his best confused look and she remarked, "You said that name under your breath right before you woke up."

"Did I?" Everard queried as Alistair helped him back up to his feet. "I don't recall that. Anyway, I think we should resume killing the various creatures around here since that's what we came to do, right?"

Everyone managed to agree with that.

OoOoOoOoO

"Damnation!" Everard managed to cry before the sloth demon's power overtook him along with his companions.

Before he knew it, he found himself inside of the Fade. He knew where he was not just due to the fact that he was a mage but also because the sky was green. And his mother was there. She was just as he remembered her except her red hair was streaked with grey and her amber eyes had more wrinkles at the edges. She even looked older. In fact, she looked exactly how Everard imagined she would have if she were still alive.

They were inside of a lovely little house that would have been even more realistic if there'd been a roof over their heads to block out the green sky. His mother turned to face him with a smile plastered on her face. He clenched his fists and stared her down.

"What is wrong, my son?" She asked, concern marring her features.

Everard knew what he was going to have to do. If he wanted to get out of the Fade and save the Circle Tower, then he'd have to destroy this dream Sloth had created. But he'd never expected…his mother.

_No.__That__isn__'__t__my__mother.__She__'__s__dead.__She__'__s__definitely__dead.__And__this__is__just__the__Fade,_he reminded himself.

But then she walked right up to him and put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"It's alright, Everard," she said softly. "I'm here."

He immediately shoved her away from him. He hesitated for just a moment before he shot a lightening bolt at her. She let out a choked cry as she collapsed to the ground and then her body vanished. Everard fell to his knees and just stared at where she'd fallen. He knew she wasn't his mother. He knew it wasn't real. But that didn't take away the pain he felt.

Or the anger that soon followed.

OoOoOoOoO

His other companions were also trapped in their own nightmares. Alistair's dream consisted of a sister Everard never knew Alistair had. Unsurprisingly, Leliana's nightmare dealt with the Chantry and a revered mother. Everard wondered if he could add 'killing a priest in a dream' to his list of things he'd done that he felt went against the Chantry. Alas, it probably didn't count.

Wynne's nightmare was almost as disturbing as Everard's. She was standing amidst the corpses of some apprentices. She talked about burning their bodies and scattering their ashes to the wind. When Everard finally convinced her that it was just a dream, the dead apprentices came back to life, which just made everything that much more unsettling.

After freeing his companions, they all found themselves face-to-face with the sloth demon. It talked to them just long enough to fuel Everard's anger again. Out of rage, he attacked the demon.

Thus, the fight began and it was an irritating fight indeed. The sloth demon took on many different forms until it decided to use its original form. Everard shot every offensive spell that he knew at the demon. Then, at long last, the battle was over. Everard was panting with the effort it had taken to kill the demon.

Shortly after the demon was slain, Niall, another mage trapped in the Fade, appeared. He said that he'd found some sort of litany. Everard vaguely recalled Owain saying something about that. Niall told them to take it from his body. But he also mentioned that he wasn't dead but…he'd been under the demon's power for far too long.

Everard agreed to take the litany. But, the moment that they were released from the Fade, he had Wynne cast any spell she could think of to save Niall. Wynne did her best and, eventually, Niall was…almost stable. At the very least, he was conscious enough to drink some water that Leliana conveniently had on-hand. Alistair gave Niall a small wedge of cheese he'd had in his pack—Alistair was awfully fond of cheese. Somehow, the other mage was able to stand and Everard decided to escort Niall downstairs to Owain. He told the others to stay behind, though.

"Why did you do that?" Niall asked as they made their way to the stairs.

Everard had decided to act as Niall's human crutch.

"There was a slim enough chance that you could be saved and I took it," Everard answered. "Say what you like about how you were ready to die but I didn't believe it for an instant."

"I was under the demon's control for days," Niall replied. "I figured that there was no hope."

"You and your hopelessness," Everard scoffed. "Why can't people ever try to be a bit more optimistic?"

"I was being realistic," Niall responded.

"Yet I proved you wrong, didn't I?" Everard rejoined.

Niall sighed and said, "Yes, you did. But you can't save everyone like this."

"I know," Everard muttered. "Trust me, I know."

OoOoOoOoO

After a couple more minutes of roaming around and killing various creatures and a handful of charmed templars, Everard and his companions finally neared the area where the Harrowing Chamber was. However, the moment that they walked into the room that led there, they found a rather sad sight: a templar in a magical cage. He was rocking back and forth on one knee, praying. When they walked into the room, he looked up. There were dark circles underneath his eyes.

"This trick again?" He said. "I know what you are. It won't work. I will stay strong…"

"Cullen!" Everard cried. "Don't you recognize me?"

"Only too well…how far they must have delved into my thoughts…" Cullen replied, resuming his rocking.

_Oh,__Cullen.__You__poor__man.__I__can__only__imagine__what__you__'__ve__witnessed,_Everard thought, frowning.

"The boy is exhausted," Wynne remarked. "And this cage…I've never seen anything like it." She turned her attention to Cullen and added, "Rest easy…help is here."

"Enough visions. If anything in you is human…kill me now and stop this game," Cullen pleaded.

"He's delirious," Leliana said. "He's been tortured…and has probably been denied food and water. I can tell. Here, I have a skin of—"

"Don't touch me! Stay away!" Cullen shouted. Then he muttered, "Filthy blood mages…getting in my head…I will not break…I'd rather die."

Everard sighed and replied, "Snap out of it. I've no time for these games."

He knew that it was rather cold to say but Everard needed Cullen to focus and that was the only thing he could think of to say.

Cullen stood up and said, "Silence…I will not listen to anything you say. Now begone!" He squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them again. "Still here? But that's always worked before. I close my eyes, but you are still here when I open them."

"I am no trick of the mind," Everard sighed.

Cullen suddenly looked relieved. Well, almost. The suspicion in his eyes remained even as he said, "Don't blame me for being cautious. The voices…the images…so real…" He paused and then inquired, "Why have you returned to the tower? How did you survive?"

Everard shrugged and answered, "I survived through quick wit and talent, of course."

Cullen's tone turned sour when he spoke next, "Yes. How proud you are of your power. Just like Uldred, and look what's become of him now."

"I'm _nothing_ like Uldred," Everard snarled, now becoming angry. "Don't you dare compare me to that monster."

"Enough, Everard, we don't have time for this," Wynne pointed out. "Cullen, can you tell us where Irving and the other mages are?"

"What others? What are you talking about?" Cullen demanded.

"Irving and the other mages who fought Uldred. Where are they?" Wynne asked patiently.

"They are in the Harrowing Chamber. The sounds coming out from there…oh, Maker…" Cullen trailed off, shuddering.

"We must hurry then. I'm sure they're in great danger," Wynne said.

Cullen gave her a look of disbelief. "You can't save them. You don't know what they've become."

Everard shook his head and said, "Irving is far stronger than you're giving him credit for, you know."

"You haven't been under their influence," Cullen rejoined.

"But you have and you survived," Everard responded. "Irving has been alive far longer than you and is much more experienced in dealing with these sorts of things. If you can survive, then so can he."

"But—" Cullen began.

"I understand that the memories of your friends' deaths are still fresh in your mind and that you probably loathe mages right now," Everard interrupted. "But I am going to go up there and save everyone that can possibly be saved. And you know what? I'd rather spare…" He faltered slightly before he pressed on, "I would rather spare a demon of its fate than risk killing an innocent."

He was going to say 'I'd rather spare maleficarum' but he realized that he'd already spared two in the last four days—Jowan and a second maleficar that claimed she only wanted freedom. Everard had figured that if she could get by the templars, then she deserved to be free.

"Thank you," Wynne said, glancing at Everard. "I knew you would make a rational decision."

"Rational?" Cullen cried. "How is this rational? Do you even understand the danger?"

Wynne finally snapped, "I know full well the dangers of magic, but killing innocents because they might be maleficarum is not justice. I know you are angry—"

Cullen had the gall to cut her off, "You know nothing! I am thinking about the future of the Circle! Of Ferelden!"

"I do not want the blood of innocents on my hands," Everard said.

"I am just willing to see the painful truth, which you choose to ignore. But what can I do?" Cullen replied. "As you can see, I am in no position to directly influence your actions, though I would love to deal with the mages myself."

"Good. Then you can't cause any trouble," Everard remarked.

"My cage is Uldred's doing…or one of his mages. Once they're dead, I will be free," Cullen said rather resignedly.

"Trust me, Uldred and his mages will die. I doubt it means anything to you right now but I will make sure he suffers…not just for you but for the others whose lives he has destroyed," Everard responded.

Cullen seemed rather surprised by this statement.

"Come on," Everard said to the others. "Let's go show some abominations why you don't piss me off."

He walked up the stairs to the Harrowing Chamber. When they entered the room, they witnessed as Uldred and a few of his minions forced a mage to turn into an abomination. The man's screams as he was turned would probably haunt Everard's dreams for a long time.

Ignoring his urge to set an inferno on the room, Everard did a quick scan of the room and noticed that Irving was clustered with three other mages. They all had their hands bound behind them. Irving looked incredibly tired and worn-out. In fact, he looked far worse off than the others. Everard couldn't help but feel a twinge of worry at seeing this. He may not have cared for Irving much at times but the man was still his mentor.

Uldred—or, rather, the monster that was now Uldred—turned to face Everard and his companions.

"Ah…look what we have here. I remember you. Irving's star pupil," he scoffed. "Uldred didn't think much of you then, and I certainly don't see your appeal now…"

"Well, forgive me if I'm not very impressed by what you've done here," Everard said.

"I suppose one can't be loved universally," Uldred snorted. "I'm quite impressed you're still alive, actually. Unfortunately, that must mean you killed my servants. Ah, well, they're probably better off dying in the service of their betters than living with the terrible responsibility of independence."

"I'm sorry. Are you upset that I killed your lackeys?" Everard asked with an edge to his voice.

"We needn't fixate on who killed whom. That doesn't help our relationship," Uldred sneered.

"Oh? You think there's a relationship forming here? I hate to disappoint you but that's not going to happen. You aren't my type," Everard responded. "Also, you're an abomination."

He could almost feel the incredulous looks of his companions.

"A mage is but the larval form of something greater. Your Chantry vilifies us, calls us abominations, when we have truly reached our full potential!" Uldred snarled, quickly turning nasty. "Look at them. The Chantry has them convinced. They deny themselves the pleasure of becoming something glorious."

"You're mad!" Wynne cried. "There's nothing glorious about what you've become, Uldred!"

"Uldred?" He responded. "He is gone. I am Uldred and yet not Uldred. I am more than he was. I could give you this gift, Wynne. You and all mages. It would be so much easier if you just accepted it. But some people can be so stubborn."

"Say what you like, I'm still going to kill you," Everard hissed.

"Resistance! Everywhere I go, resistance! How very inconsiderate," the abomination said, throwing his arms up in frustration.

Suddenly, his eyes met Everard's for a moment. The creature suddenly smiled and continued, "Wait…what do we have here? Why, it's the first enchanter. Come say hello to your old apprentice, Irving. Don't mind the blood. He's had a…hard day."

Irving started to speak but Uldred—or what was left of him—interrupted, "You'll serve me eventually, Irving. As will you…" His eyes met Everard's again.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Everard inquired. "Something dirty?"

"Oh, I'm not stupid," Uldred said, ignoring the comment.

"I doubt that," Everard muttered.

Uldred glowered at him and continued, "You're a pawn of the templars and I will not allow you to wander around this tower. You are a thorn in my side and I must remove you before you fester."

"Really? Did you have to use such a disgusting analogy?" Everard said, raising his eyebrows.

"No, but it served to bring the point across. I cannot let you be, but killing you…such a waste. Your raw potential, with the strength of a demon behind it, would be unstoppable. I can do that—I can give you power, and a new life," Uldred declared.

"I can gain power on my own," Everard replied.

"Ah, but it's too late. I've decided to give you the power, and that is what will be done," Uldred rejoined. "Fight, if you must. It will just make my victory all the sweeter."

The demon finally showed itself in its true form—a pride demon.

_Well,__that__would__figure,_Everard thought, sighing. _I__wonder__…__how__many__pride__demons__does__it__take__to__fill__a__Harrowing__Chamber?_

Everard knew that his companions would know what to do, so he didn't bother giving them directions before he practically threw himself at the demon. He led it to the other side of the Harrowing Chamber despite Alistair shouting something about not taking on the crazy demon on his own.

"You will be mine," the demon growled, swiping at Everard.

He ducked out of the way and shot a lightening bolt at the creature's chest. The demon actually laughed and took another swing. Everard anticipated this and dodged right. However, the demon somehow knew how to cleanse a mage's mana. Everard felt the debilitating, unbridled pain throughout his whole body. He doubled over from the pain and the demon finally landed one of its punches. Everard slammed into the wall and crumbled to the ground. The demon laughed again.

Alistair, Leliana, and Wynne watched in horror as this occurred, having already finished off the four abominations easily. Before any of them could move forward to help the young mage, the demon's laughter abruptly cut off. Everard slowly stood and, even from the other side of the room, Wynne could see the gash on his right arm and a dagger in his other hand. She felt the power radiating from Everard despite the fact that he was clearly drained of mana.

Everard took a step forward and the demon took a step back. With a start, Alistair realized that the demon was actually _afraid_ of Everard. He looked to Leliana and Wynne. Leliana was just as shocked as Alistair whereas Wynne just looked…grim.

They all heard Everard as he spoke, his voice softer than ever and yet louder than they'd heard before, "Where is your pride now? That unwavering resolve that you had just a minute ago? Are you afraid of a small, insignificant mage like myself now? Did you not say that I was unimpressive? Well, I guess you were wrong, huh? And now…now you die!"

With that, the demon suddenly exploded. It was almost like a mixture of the walking bomb and crushing prison spells, just fueled by a mage's blood rather than mana. At least, that's what it had looked like to Wynne. Whatever Everard had done, it caused him to collapse immediately after. Wynne was slightly reluctant to approach him but her healer instincts took over. She poured her remaining mana reserves into healing Everard of the wounds he had sustained—a cracked rib…head trauma…and the wound on his forearm. However, she could do nothing for his blood loss.

"Check on Irving," Everard choked, pressing a lyrium potion into her hand. "Make sure…he's alright."

Wynne nodded and walked away. Leliana and Alistair were quick to replace her, though.

"I'm…sorry," Everard said quietly, looking at Alistair. "It was…I was…not supposed—"

"Save your strength, friend," Alistair interrupted. "Now is not the time for this."

"No," Everard shook his head. "No. Alistair…I have to…"

But he blacked out before he could finish what he wanted to say.

OoOoOoOoO

He half-expected to wake up in chains. But he didn't. Rather, Everard woke up only to find that he was being carried in between Leliana and Alistair. Up ahead of them, Wynne was helping Irving along. Niall was there as well with Owain carefully guiding him. Cullen had even joined them but he cast a furtive glance over his shoulder at Everard as they walked towards the double doors that would lead to where Greagoir and the others were waiting. Alistair and Leliana stopped walking when they realized that Everard was awake.

"Can you stand on your own?" Alistair inquired.

"Yes," Everard answered right away.

They released him. Everard's first few steps were a little shaky but he quickly regained his balance. They walked through the double doors. The look on Greagoir's face when he saw them was priceless. But Everard did not dwell on that fact.

Irving managed to convince Greagoir that the Circle was safe again despite Cullen's interruption of, "We shouldn't take any chances, Greagoir! They could be possessed!"

Cullen's protests went ignored.

"Irving," Everard said, catching the enchanter's attention. "We didn't just happen to be in the area and decide to stop by. We…need your help."

He explained the situation at Redcliffe to Irving. The First Enchanter caught on rather quickly and agreed to go to Redcliffe to perform the ritual to save Connor. He also mentioned that the Circle mages would aide Everard in the fight against the Blight.

"I just need a bit of time to calm my nerves and gather what we'll need," Irving said.

"Of course," Everard replied. "We'll be camping just outside of the town across the lake. Find us there when you're ready to leave."

OoOoOoOoO

Wynne joined Everard's ragtag group. Irving hadn't needed much persuasion and Everard was still so drained that he really didn't care about Wynne joining. That and they gained a healer, which was always nice to have around.

However, four humans and mabari hound could not fit on one boat. Luckily, there were plenty rowboats still around, so Everard and Alistair ended up in one while Leliana, Wynne, and Barkley took another boat.

Alistair was unusually quiet as they rowed, which was never a good sign. It meant he was thinking and that led to Everard wondering what he was thinking about. Everard distracted himself from those thoughts and instead focused on the one thing that had been nagging at him the whole time they were in the tower: Where was Anders?

Everard was terrified that Anders had been one of the abominations that he'd killed. If he wasn't, though, then he was still locked up, possibly unaware of what had occurred…

"When did you start using blood magic?" Alistair suddenly blurted, breaking Everard's thoughts.

The silence that followed his question was stifling. Alistair had stopped rowing and their boat began floating to one side but neither man cared much.

Finally Everard muttered, "I…well…that was the first time."

Alistair shook his head and grumbled, "Liar."

"Honestly," Everard said sincerely, "that was the first time."

"Then what demon did you strike a deal with? Was it one you ran into while trying to save us from our nightmares?" Alistair demanded.

"Do you truly think I'd…no. No, Alistair, I didn't make a deal with a demon. I learned blood magic from an old grimoire I found three years ago," Everard responded.

Alistair gave him a look of disbelief and retorted, "Oh, sure, you remembered something that you read three years ago. I believe you. Really."

"I have an excellent memory," Everard shrugged. "I can read or hear or see anything and then recall it years later."

"Oh," Alistair mumbled. "Well…er…right then."

"So, are you still angry with me?" Everard asked as Alistair resumed rowing.

"I don't know," Alistair said honestly. "It was just…hard to see you using blood magic. I didn't think you were…the type."

"It was a moment of desperation," Everard replied. "I knew how badly injured I was and how one more hit could have very likely killed me or, at the very least, rendered me immobilized."

Alistair sighed and stopped rowing again, "I'm just worried about you using blood magic. It's not right."

"I won't use it all of the time and I will never use it to steal any of your health to replenish my mana or power a spell."

"You…what?"

"Oh, you didn't know that blood magic could do that?"

"Not really. But now I don't ever want to bleed anywhere near you."

"Come off it, Alistair. I'm not going to suck your blood or anything."

"What about human sacrifices?"

"Very funny."

"No…really…what about human sacrifices?"

"We're not in Tevinter and not all blood mages have to sacrifice a virgin on a full moon to ensure their power remains strong."

Alistair gave him a horrified look and Everard laughed. Alistair flushed crimson and resumed rowing with more vigor than before.

"Maker's breath, you're a…oh, wow. How old are you again?" Everard remarked teasingly.

"I don't even know how old _you_ are," Alistair said, trying to divert Everard's attention.

"I am eighteen years old," Everard replied. "And you are…?"

"You're…eighteen?" Alistair repeated.

Everard nodded as he stared at Alistair intently, waiting for the man's answer.

Alistair eventually relented after a minute or so, "I will be twenty-two in three months if we make it to that time."

"Your optimism is awe-inspiring," Everard remarked. "And twenty-two? Honestly? How have you _not_—"

"Licked a lamppost in winter?" Alistair cut in.

Everard chortled and said, "Well, I didn't know you were interested in men."

"I…what?" Alistair replied, looking confused.

"Think about it. Licking a lamppost in winter. Just give it some thought and you'll understand," Everard responded, grinning slyly.

Alistair nearly dropped the oars into the water when he realized what Everard was alluding to.

"Why? Why do you do these things to me?" Alistair demanded as he recovered from his shock.

"Because it's fun," Everard smirked.

"Well, you're a bad person," Alistair declared.

Everard chuckled and said, "You set yourself up for that one."

"I dislike being the butt of all of the jokes," Alistair pouted.

"Would you rather be on top?" Everard said, barely containing his laughter.

Alistair's eyes narrowed and he grumbled quietly, "…I hate you."

Everard could hold back his laughter anymore. His laugh seemed to echo across the lake. Alistair joined in because, as Anders had once said to Everard, laughter was contagious.

OoOoOoOoO

**Author****'****s****Note:**I find it funny that this chapter starts off on a serious note and then it ends with Alistair and Everard cackling like madmen. Don't you just love it when these things happen? Of course, this was also the longest chapter and it covered the most, so that would explain the drastic change in tone, right?

Evidently, the chapter didn't tell the events exactly as they happened in-game (who wants to read a walkthrough, eh?). Really, though, I just wanted change things up. Like saving Niall because A) He's not too bad of a character and B) I've always thought that you could save him if you actually tried. I mean, come on, what's the point of having a spirit healer around if she can't basically bring someone back from the brink of death?

Another thing I changed was how no one seems to notice/care when you use blood magic. (Except Wynne who can tell on your character but, in my game, she never did that.) And the fact that Everard uses blood magic in front of the biggest Chantry geeks and an almost-templar…yeah. I had to do _something_ with that. As for the spell he used, I just made it up based off of how I think blood magic should technically work. Basically: No mana? Use your blood to power that mighty demon slaying spell! At least, it's something like that.

Of course, there was also the change to Everard's nightmare. I never understood why the Warden's nightmare was so impersonal compared to the others'. I mean, Everard doesn't care about Weisshaupt and he barely knew Duncan. On the other hand, throw his mother into a nightmare and make him have to kill her to escape…and there's the perfect nightmare. Although, the sloth demon didn't exactly have a happy ending after doing that…

Lastly, we have Everard's visions. For those who have played/watched a walkthrough of Dragon Age II, you probably have some clue as to who Everard's visions are of. (He'll have more as the story progresses.) As for why Everard is having these visions…well…you'll have to wait to find out.

One more thing, the part where Leliana says, "Watch out! A trap!" That was based off of many, many times in the game where Leliana says this _right__as__Everard__steps__on__the__tripwire._I just sit there going, "Why couldn't you have said that _before_ he steps on it?" Sometimes, I wondered if Leliana just liked seeing Everard get hurt. And I think that's enough rambling for now.


	8. The Crows Sit There Waiting

**Author****'****s****Note:**I'd like to thank all of those reading, reviewing, favoriting, alerting etc.

Chapter nine is almost done as I write this. In fact, I've already started on chapter ten. Anyway, here's to hoping that the italics and bold print will look normally this time. Also, for those of you wondering, I listen to music whenever I write. Thus, some of the chapter names come from the lyrics of a song I'm listening to. In this case, the chapter's name was inspired by the lyrics "All the crows they sit there waiting," which is from the song "The One" by Elena Siegman. Just a fun little fact I thought I'd share.

_Chapter Eight: The Crows Sit There Waiting_

In the end, Connor was freed from the demon's grasp with the aid of Irving, a small contingent of mages, and lots and lots of lyrium. Everard knew that it probably would have been far easier to have just killed Connor and moved on but…he couldn't do something like that while knowing that there was another option. However, freeing Conner did nothing to help Arl Eamon. If anything, Eamon's condition worsened a bit.

It was then that Isolde brought up her belief that the Urn of Sacred Ashes would save her husband. She mentioned that a Brother Genitivi in Denerim was looking for the Ashes. So, Everard decided that their next stop would be Denerim.

He took Leliana along to go there, figuring that he wouldn't require much help getting from Redcliffe to Denerim. He didn't anticipate that they would be attacked by anything they couldn't handle.

Halfway to Denerim, they were accosted by an overly hysterical woman who said something about bandits attacking her caravan.

"Can we pass this one up?" Everard asked half-seriously, half-jokingly.

"No!" Leliana cried. "That poor woman must be so scared!"

"Yet, she's going right back towards the bandits?" Everard replied, gesturing to her retreating form.

Leliana glared at him and he sighed, "Alright, alright. We'll help her."

As it turned out, the caravan attack was actually an ambush by assassins. Assassins that wanted to kill the Grey Wardens…

They were outnumbered nine to two. The woman that had led them into the ambush was a mage. There were five archers—three to the left and two to the right. Then there were the three melee fighters.

The moment that the fight began, Everard shot a fireball at the archers to his left. They went down but, after a moment, got right back up. The melee fighters were getting too close for comfort, so he created a wall of fire between them. The wall stalled them but Everard knew he wouldn't be able to keep it up forever. He shot yet another fireball at the three archers, effectively killing them. Before he could get off another spell, something hard hit him in the chest, knocking him to the ground. The enemy mage had cast a stone fist spell at him. Everard's wall of fire extinguished as he hit the ground.

"Leliana, we need to split up. I want you to take out the rest of the archers but focus more on the mage. I'll lead the melee fighters to that ridge over there," he ordered, nodding over at the area where the now-dead archers were. "Once the other archers and the mage are dead, I'll probably need your help. Also, we need one of them left alive…for questioning."

Leliana nodded in understanding as she let loose another arrow at one of the approaching swordsmen. It hit him right in the eye, killing him instantly.

"Now the odds are a bit better, no?" She smirked. Then, she went to do as Everard had said.

Everard managed to dodge around the remaining melee fighters but then he ran right into the mage. Without a second thought, he cast a crushing prison spell on her. Her cry of pain was cut short as one of Leliana's arrows pierced her throat.

"Watch your back!" Leliana called before turning her focus back to the archers that had become interested in her.

Everard turned and barely managed to dodge a slash from one of the assassins. He hadn't even reached the ridge yet…

"Persistent, aren't you?" Everard remarked, shooting a blast of electricity at the two men, one of whom was an elf. The elf got out of the way of the blast but the other assassin was hit with its full force. He fell to the ground, dead.

The elf suddenly grabbed Everard's forearm and forced him to walk backwards, slamming him against the side of the ridge he'd been trying to get to. The elf now had Everard cornered. But he wasn't the only one with a blade. Everard immediately drew out his dagger and pointed it at the elf. Moments later, Leliana appeared behind the elf with her own dagger.

"Give up," Everard rasped, beginning to feel the effects of his depleting mana.

Before the elf could reply, however, Leliana hit him in the head with the pommel of her dagger, effectively knocking the elf unconscious.

"He wasn't going to give up that easily, you know," Leliana commented.

"I figured as much," Everard sighed, sheathing his dagger. "Anyway, we should take his weapons and tie him up. I want to know who hired him."

"Isn't that obvious?" Leliana asked. "It was more than likely Loghain."

"Still, I want to be sure. You never know. There could be others who want me dead," Everard answered, shrugging.

He bent down and grabbed the elf's sword and dagger. He threw them into a nearby crate while Leliana expertly—maybe a little _too_ expertly—bound the elf. Everard allowed himself to collapse on the ground near the elf. He pulled a lyrium potion out of the satchel attached to his belt and drank the whole thing. He let out a sigh of relief as he felt his mana regenerate faster.

"Leliana, do you need any healing?" Everard inquired, realizing that he hadn't even asked her that yet.

"Ah, no. But I don't think we would have time for that anyway. Our captive appears to be waking up already," Leliana answered.

Sure enough, Everard heard the elf groan and then say, "I rather thought that I would wake up dead. Or not wake up at all, as the case may be. But I see you haven't killed me yet."

He was lying on his side, facing Everard. Leliana stood out of his line of vision, watching him intently.

"I have some questions," Everard replied, meeting the elf's eyes.

"Ah! So I am to be interrogated? Let me save you some time," the elf responded, keeping the eye contact. "My name is Zevran. Zev to my friends. I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the sole purpose of slaying any surviving Grey Wardens. Which I have failed at, sadly."

"I'm rather happy you failed," Everard remarked.

"So would I be, in your shoes. For me, however, it sets a rather poor precedent, doesn't it? Getting captured by a target seems a tad detrimental to one's budding assassin career," Zevran said.

"Who hired you to kill us?"

"A rather taciturn fellow in the capital. Loghain, I think his name was? Yes, that's it."

"What are the Antivan Crows?"

Leliana chimed in for this question, "I can tell you that. They are an order of assassins out of Antiva. Very powerful, and renowned for always getting the job done…so to speak. Loghain went to great expense to hire this man."

"Quite right," Zevran agreed. "I'm surprised you haven't heard much of the Crows out here. Back where I'm from, we're rather infamous."

"Not for being good assassins, I see," Everard smirked.

"Oh, fine. Is that what you Fereldens do? Mock your prisoners? Such cruelty," Zevran said.

"I…no. I didn't quite mean…never mind. Why are you even telling me all of this?"

"Why not? I wasn't paid for silence. Not that I offered it for sale, precisely."

"Aren't you at least loyal to your employers?"

"Loyalty is an interesting concept. If you wish, and you're done interrogating me, we can discuss it further."

Everard crossed his arms over his chest and said, "I'm listening. Make it quick."

"Well, here's the thing. I failed to kill you, so my life is forfeit. That's how it works. If you don't kill me, the Crows will," Zevran proposed. "Thing is, I like living. And you obviously are the sort to give the Crows pause. So let me serve you, instead."

"And what's to stop you from finishing the job later?" Everard demanded.

"To be completely honest, I was never given much of a choice regarding joining the Crows. They bought me on the slave market when I was a child. I think I've paid my worth back to them, plus tenfold. The only way out, however, is to sign up with someone they can't touch," Zevran said.

Everard shifted uncomfortably as he realized that he and Zevran had something in common—they both hadn't had a normal childhood.

"Even if I did kill you now," Zevran continued, unaware of the mage's thoughts, "they might just kill me on principle for failing the first time. Honestly, I'd rather take my chances with you."

Everard glanced over at Leliana. She was looking at Zevran and didn't notice Everard's gaze. He met the elf's eyes again.

"Won't they come after you?" Everard inquired. _Like__templars,_he added.

"Possibly. I happen to know their wily ways, however. I can protect myself, as well as you. Not that you seem to need much help," Zevran answered nonchalantly. "And if not…well, it's not as if I had many alternatives to start with, is it?"

"Can I expect the same amount of loyalty from you as you show to Loghain?" Everard asked, deciding not to think about the Crows killing Zevran.

"I happen to be a very loyal person. Up until the point where someone expects me to die for failing," Zevran said. "That's not a fault, really, is it? I mean, unless you're the sort who would—"

"Trust me, I won't kill you just because you fail at something," Everard interrupted. "Anyway, why would I want your help?"

Now, Everard was just curious about what Zevran could do.

"Why? Because I am skilled at many things, from fighting to stealth and picking locks," Zevran responded. "I could also warn you should the Antivan Crows attempt something more…sophisticated…now that my attempts have failed." He smirked and added, "I also know a great many jokes. Twelve massage techniques, six different card games. I'd do wonderful at parties, no?"

Everard barely held back a chuckle. "Very well. I accept your offer."

"Welcome, Zevran!" Leliana said, smiling even though the elf couldn't see it. "Having an Antivan Crow join us sounds like a fine plan."

"Oh? You are another companion-to-be, then? I wasn't aware such loveliness existed amongst adventurers, surely," Zevran replied, somehow managing to turn his head so he could see her.

"Or maybe not," Leliana responded, crossing her arms.

Everard stood up and cut Zevran free of his bonds. He helped the elf to his feet.

"I hereby pledge my oath of loyalty to you, until such a time as you choose to release me from it. I am your man, without reservation…this I swear," Zevran declared.

"That…uh…that should do," Everard stammered. "Your…er…things are over in that…crate. We're going to continue our journey to Denerim in a few minutes, so don't take too much time."

OoOoOoOoO

Zevran did not try a surprise attack while they walked to Denerim. Rather, he and Leliana chatted. Everard did not listen to their conversation. He was more focused on following the road and not getting lost. Night was beginning to descend by the time that they reached Denerim.

"We'll have to stay at an inn," Everard said resignedly. It's not that he wasn't happy about sleeping in a warm bed but it seemed like a better idea to camp outside of Denerim.

His thoughts were quickly put aside when Zevran asked, "Out of curiosity, why is it that you have come to Denerim?"

Everard saw no harm in telling the Crow their reasons for being in Denerim. It's not like what they were doing wouldn't be obvious.

"We need food and medical supplies. Since Bodahn, our usual supplier, is out of those things and he won't be back with his caravan for at least two more days, that's why we're in Denerim. Then there's this business we have with a Brother Genitivi, which Leliana can probably tell you about or I could. Whichever you'd prefer," Everard explained. "Also, we will be getting into colder territory soon and I figured it would be wise to have warmer clothes. Freezing to death just isn't an option. And seeing as how I'm the only one out of our group who didn't think about bringing along a cloak or anything warm..."

"Ah, I see," Zevran replied.

They were walking through the market district now. The shops were closing down for the night.

"There's a tavern," Leliana declared, pointing over at a building. The sign above the front door read:Gnawed Noble Tavern.

"A tavern? Does that mean we'll have actual beds to sleep in?" Everard said, grinning.

Leliana sighed and said, "Come on."

She led the way inside. Once there, they found themselves among quite a few people.

"It would seem that this is a fairly popular place," Zevran commented as Leliana led them through the crowd and up to the bartender.

"Do you have a room that we can stay in?" Leliana asked the bartender.

"For all three of you?" The bartender responded, raising his eyebrows.

"Yes," Leliana replied.

"That'll be eighty silvers then," the man smirked, making his thoughts _very_ clear.

Leliana ignored the smirk and gave him the money. He handed her a key and told her that their room was the last door down the hall. Leliana thanked him and headed for the room. Everard and Zevran followed her silently.

When they entered the room, they found that it was divided into two rooms. The first one was just a sitting area with a fairly large couch, a bookcase, and various decorative things. The second room held the bed, armoire, and bathtub.

The moment he saw the size of the bed, Zevran remarked, "Will you look at that? I bet that we can all fit in the bed, yes?"

"I would not feel comfortable with that arrangement," Leliana retorted.

"But then that means that one of us will have to sleep on that couch," Everard said. "If you don't want to share a bed with Zevran, then I could sleep in the middle of you two. That way, there will—"

Zevran's snicker cut Everard off.

"Or I could just not sleep at all," Everard mumbled.

Leliana sighed and ordered Zevran to sleep on the couch.

"Oh ho! So, you just want our dear Warden to yourself, huh?" Zevran leered.

Everard chose this moment to slip out of the room. He would come back later, he decided. Perhaps then Zevran and Leliana will have stopped arguing.

_It__'__s__funny,__though.__Just__a__few__hours__ago,__we__were__trying__to__kill__each__other.__You__would__never__have__guessed__it,__though,_Everard said to himself as he made his way back to the crowd of people in the tavern.

But the people proved to be too drunk to talk to or be around, so Everard went outside instead. He turned right on his way out and rounded the corner of the building. The moment that he did this, someone grabbed his arm, twisted it behind his back, and slammed him against the side of the building.

"The Maker has smiled upon me," a man's voice hissed in his ear.

"It depends on what you asked for, doesn't it?" Everard replied. "If you asked for a virgin, then the Maker hasn't smiled upon you."

The man's grip on Everard's arm tightened. Everard grit his teeth to prevent his cry of pain from escaping.

"No, the Maker has given me a Grey Warden," the man snarled. "You know, there's a bounty on your head, boy."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Everard responded. "I'm not a Grey Warden."

The man released his arm and forced Everard to turn around to face him. He pinned Everard's arms down by his side, though.

"You look a lot like a Warden that I saw at Ostagar," the man declared.

"Well, you're mistaken because I'm not a Warden," Everard insisted.

"You should listen to him," Zevran suddenly said from behind the man.

"He's a Warden, I know he is," the man growled, griping Everard's forearms until his gauntlets were biting into the mage's skin.

"If you do not let him go, I will be forced to kill you," Zevran replied coolly, drawing out his dagger with a flourish.

The man grumbled under his breath and let go of Everard.

"I will prove that you are a Warden," he vowed before walking away.

"The irony of you saving my life does not escape me," Everard said once the man was gone.

"Going out alone like this was not the best of ideas," Zevran remarked.

"Are you going to try to kill me next?" Everard asked.

"You would already be dead," Zevran replied.

It was then that Everard become aware of the point of a dagger digging into his side. Zevran quickly pulled the dagger away and sheathed it, smirking all the while. Everard could feel his face burning with embarrassment that he had nearly been killed not once but twice. He shoved past Zevran and went back into the tavern. Once he was back in the room, Leliana glanced up from her seat on the couch. Zevran slipped in behind Everard, closing the door as he did so.

"You look…flustered," she commented, looking up at the mage.

"Our dear Warden has just been made aware of how foolish he can be," Zevran responded, still smirking away.

"Oh? What happened?" Leliana inquired.

"Nothing happened," Everard snapped, glowering at Zevran.

"Oh? I think I saw this happen, though," Zevran said, grabbing Everard's arm and twisting it behind his back.

Everard tried to elbow Zevran but the elf just tightened his grip and then let go. Leliana giggled and Everard glared at her.

"He should learn how to handle himself better in a fight, don't you think?" Zevran asked Leliana.

"Oh, yes. He should, especially since he barely knows how to hold a dagger correctly," Leliana agreed, smiling. "Perhaps, though, we should wait until we are back at camp where it is open and a bit more private?"

Everard decided that he wanted to change the subject and so he inquired, "Did you two ever decide on our sleeping arrangements?"

Leliana smiled knowingly and said, "Looks like you'll be in the middle after all."


	9. The Guild of Gilded Cages

**Author****'****s****Note:**Once more, I'd like to say thank you very much to those reading, reviewing, alerting, favoriting etc.

I am going to stop using italics and just use a [ for the beginning of a thought and ] for the end. If this bothers anyone, feel free to tell me. But, honestly, the whole I'm-running-together-muhaha thing the italics do is frustrating for me. Just so you know, this chapter is set directly after chapter eight.

_Chapter Nine: The Guild of Gilded Cages_

As it was, Everard had trouble sleeping that night. At around one in the morning, he awoke to the sound of Leliana snoring softly to his right and Zevran mumbling something in his sleep to his left. He let out a soft groan of frustration.

It wasn't necessarily restlessness that kept him from obtaining sleep. Rather, it was one single nightmare that he continuously had now. It was the dream that the sloth demon had created for him, except there were a couple of details that had changed. Younger versions of Jowan and Anders were there with his mother. Templars appeared to take Jowan and Anders. Everard's mother wept and yelled at the templars until, without warning, one of them killed her. Then, his mother's killer turned to look at Everard. He ordered the other templars to kill Jowan and Anders and they did. It was probably one of the worst nightmares he'd had in awhile.

[I shouldn't let my dreams bother me this much, though,]Everard thought as he sat up in bed.

He sighed and put his head in his hands. [If only they didn't feel so real…]

After a few minutes, Everard lied back down and closed his eyes again. It felt like it was far too early to be awake and he was determined to sleep no matter what.

OoOoOoOoO

"Hnngh, leave me 'lone," the auburn-haired young man grumbled. "Too early."

"Brother, you're the idiot who decided to take this job, so get up already and let's get this over with," the young man with darker hair replied.

Everard stared in disbelief at the scene before him. These young men were the same ones he'd seen briefly during his vision—or whatever it was—of Bethany's untimely death. And now they were back again.

He looked up at the sky for the tell-tale signs of the Fade and found a ceiling above his head instead.

[What is going on?]He thought, trying not to panic.

"Tell Athenril to shove it," the sleepy man responded, bringing Everard back to the conversation. "And tell the shadow lurking behind you to go 'way."

"The…what?" The dark-haired man spun around and looked right at Everard. But he didn't appear to actually see him because he said, "There's nothing behind me, you dolt. Now, get up before I pour cold water over you."

The auburn man grumbled something incoherent into his pillow and sat up. He ran a hand over his face and then narrowed his grey eyes at his brother.

"Why are you already dressed for the day?" He demanded.

"Well, I decided to get dressed after I tried to wake you up twenty minutes ago. I foolishly thought that you would get off your lazy arse—"

"Lazy?" The grey-eyed man was clearly offended by this statement. "I do far more than you give me credit for, Carver!"

"Oh, shut up before you wake the whole hovel," Carver retorted, walking right through Everard as he spoke.

Everard shuddered when he did that. It gave him an eerie feeling…

Then, without warning, he jolted awake. He sat up in the bed and found that Zevran and Leliana were no longer in the room. He was a little thankful for this. He crawled out of bed and peeked into the sitting room. They were definitely gone.

Everard sat down heavily on the end of the bed and put his head in his hands.

[What is happening to me? And, more importantly, why is this happening to me? Who are those young men? Why am I having…visions of them? And what is causing this? Surely—]

"I would say 'Good morning' but that clearly is not an appropriate statement," Zevran's voice interrupted his thoughts.

Everard's head snapped up. The elf was leaning against the doorframe, his amber eyes twinkling.

"Is he awake?" Leliana inquired, peering over his shoulder.

Zevran stepped aside to let her through.

"We were going to take turns bathing," Leliana announced.

"And since we are such gentlemen, we are letting her go first," Zevran added, smirking.

"That's…great. So, uh, do they serve breakfast here?" Everard replied, giving Zevran a dubious look.

"Yes," Leliana answered and then she asked uncertainly, "Are you…okay?"

"Could be better, could be worse," Everard shrugged, standing up.

Zevran chuckled softly and said, "Come, let us go feast upon the fine breakfast awaiting us."

"I doubt it will be quite that good," Everard responded, quickly pulling his boots on.

"Ah, such optimism," Zevran said sarcastically.

"I usually am optimistic but today…it's already not a good day," Everard grumbled, yanking the door open and stepping through it.

"Why is that, I wonder?" Zevran replied.

"I don't want to talk about it," Everard snapped.

Zevran immediately dropped the subject and walked on ahead of Everard.

OoOoOoOoO

After eating breakfast and finally having the chance to bathe properly, Everard decided to go shopping. Leliana was excited at the prospect of looking at clothing. However, Zevran's reaction to Everard saying 'we're going shopping and then visiting Brother Genitivi' was unreadable, which wasn't necessarily a good sign.

It didn't matter, though. They all ended up going separate ways, agreeing to meet in front of the tavern later on. Everard entered the first promising-looking shop he found. The shopkeeper didn't even bother greeting him even though Everard was dressed in relatively clean clothes.

By the time that he was supposed to meet his companions, Everard had bought a gray wool overcoat, black leather bracers, a simple blue shirt with silver stitching, and a pair of black trousers. He was mildly surprised at how expensive the things were but he had accrued enough gold and silver to pay for it all and still have extra leftover.

As Everard was leaving an armor shop, a ginger-haired man stopped him. Eventually, the man—Slim Couldry—got to the point of why he stopped Everard, the mage was…intrigued. The gist of it was, Everard would pay Slim for tips on certain "merchandise" and, in doing the jobs, he would get to keep whatever he "acquired."

The first job was easy: Steal from a rich noble in the Market without her noticing. Everard did this within just a few minutes, which seemed to impress Slim.

"I'll come back for another job some other time," Everard said. "I have other business to attend to."

"I understand, Warden," Slim replied.

Of course a man like Slim would know Everard was a Warden. Slim had even been kind enough to tell Everard that the guards had been shown a likeness of him. Everard quickly decided that working with Slim Couldry would prove to be…exhilarating.

When he joined up with Leliana and Zevran outside of the Gnawed Noble, they noticed that he seemed rather happy, which was a stark contrast to the mood they had left him in.

"Someone's day has certainly got better," Zevran remarked.

"You could say that," Everard replied. "It's true, at least."

"Shall we go see if Brother Genitivi has found any leads on the Urn of Sacred Ashes now?" Leliana asked, gesturing to the house that was directly across from the tavern.

"That's where he lives?" Everard said, raising his eyebrows. "Oh, there are so many comments I could make right now."

"Please refrain from making them," Leliana said, giving him a warning look of 'or else.'

Everard snickered and led the way to the house. They tried knocking but nothing happened. They tried the door and it swung open.

"Unlocked door yet no one is answering…oh, this bodes _so_ well," Everard commented.

As it was, Everard was right. It turned out that Brother Genitivi's apprentice, Weylon, was actually an imposter of the real Weylon. The real one was dead and cleverly hidden in the room that the fake one had tried—and failed, miserably—to keep Everard out of. Fake Weylon was now dead as well.

"I have to wonder how Genitivi will react to finding two dead bodies in his house," Everard said after they found the man's journal.

"I will alert the city guard of what happened," Leliana declared.

"Well, you have fun with that. I'm off to see what else this city has to offer," Everard responded.

Once he was gone, Zevran said, "He is proving to be an interesting man."

Leliana glanced at Zevran and replied, "To be honest, I do not understand him sometimes."

"We cannot all be open books," Zevran remarked as he checked the fake Weylon for money.

OoOoOoOoO

They did not see Everard again until later on that night. Leliana had wanted to go search for him but Zevran reminded her that he was a grown man. When he did finally stumble through the door, he looked like an utter mess. There were shallow cuts all over his hands, his hair was sticking up at strange intervals, and his boots were muddy.

"What happened to you?" Leliana demanded, sounding very much like a worried older sister.

"Two things," Everard answered, kicking the door shut behind himself. "First, never grab a sword by the blade. Second, sneaking in through a window is harder than it sounds. That is all you need to know."

"Is that what that crash from the room next to us was?" Leliana asked.

"Maybe…maybe not," Everard shrugged. "Just know that we are several sovereigns richer than we were before."

At her look of disbelief, he mustered up an innocent smile for her before he went into the bedroom.

"Shall we go out, get drunk, and be merry?" Everard asked loudly enough for Leliana to hear.

"That sounds like my kind of fun!" Zevran answered enthusiastically.

Leliana sighed and stepped into the room, "You two can go but I would rather stay here."

"And pray for the Maker to forgive us for the transgressions we will commit tonight?" Everard snickered.

"I only hope that you will not drink too much. We should go back to Redcliffe tomorrow and tell the others what happened. Then, we will have to—" Leliana began.

"All of that will happen tomorrow," Everard interjected. "Right now, I would rather live in the present."

Leliana got a strange look on her face and then said, "Maker's breath! I sounded like an old woman!"

Everard laughed and responded, "Spend too much time around Wynne, did you? Then again…it was _her_ wine Jowan and I got drunk off of…"

Leliana giggled and said, "I still will not join you, though. Someone has to be sober in the morning."

OoOoOoOoO

By the end of the night, Zevran learned quite a few things about the Grey Warden. First off, Everard could handle his liqueurs and such quite well—insomuch that he didn't end up hurling on his boots. Secondly, once he was drunk enough, he started talking. Finally, when he did get drunk, he paid for their drinks, got up, and, in this case, wandered around Denerim chattering away to Zevran.

"It's a gilded cage, you know," Everard remarked as they walked across the bridge to the alienage. He stopped halfway across and leaned over the railing. "Nothing like the alienage here," he continued, nodding in the direction of the derelict-seeming buildings. "You can leave the alienage without repercussions. You won't be hunted down and either killed or brought back in chains. Elves in the alienage almost have it better than mages. But I've heard about alienage purges. Well, read about them. Believe it or not but I read a lot while in the tower. I didn't just drink and make up templar jokes.

Oh! We could also copulate but we had to be quiet about it. Sometimes you could find somewhere private and cast one of those spells that make it to where sound stays in the room. I found out about that spell from Anders who was told about it by Karl Thekla. Karl ended up transferring over to the Kirkwall Circle a year or so ago. Anders and Karl were…close."

At this, Everard shook his head, smiling slightly.

"You know, I too come from a gilded cage," Zevran broke in. "The Antivan Crows paid a fine price for me so I am told. I was seven when that happened."

"Huh. I was five when I was taken from my family," Everard muttered.

"Ah, I was not taken from my family per se. My mother died giving birth to me. My first kill, you could say," Zevran replied, stepping closer to the mage. "I was raised in a whorehouse, which is where my mother had worked."

"Did you ever know your father?" Everard asked, still watching the water as it flowed under the bridge.

"No. I did not. I was told he was a woodcutter, though," Zevran answered.

"I didn't know mine either. In my mother's letters to me, she told me that he had been a fine man. He wasn't a mage, though," Everard shifted uncomfortably. "She told me that magic runs in our family. That the Amells are believed to be cursed with magic. Mother never believed it was a curse. Rather, she saw it as a gift. She was devastated when I was taken to the Circle. I recall her saying, 'Not again' when the templars came to our home. I don't know what she meant. I tried asking her in a letter when I was twelve but she just seemed to ignore the question."

"Could you have a brother or sister then?" Zevran inquired.

"If I do, he or she is in the Kirkwall Circle. I know that only because the Amells hail from Kirkwall. I'm nobility if you can believe it. Although, I'm not really anymore because mages lose that status once they're in the Circle," Everard sighed. "I don't care much about it, though. Kirkwall means nothing to me and I doubt I will ever go there."

"The City of Chains? Why would you not want to go to such a lovely place?" Zevran said sarcastically.

"Exactly," Everard replied, turning to face the elf. "Anywhere nicknamed the City of Chains can't be a good place. There are any number of things that can go wrong there. And you know what else?"

Zevran stared blankly at him.

"Smugglers," Everard declared.

The elf quirked an eyebrow at that.

"Maybe they aren't bad," Everard added. "Maybe they aren't…good. I just know that they're there. Every place has smugglers. But Kirkwall…they're there."

He staggered forward and started heading towards the alienage.

"Oh, not that way, my friend," Zevran said, steering Everard back towards the Denerim Market. "Leliana will have my head if you get your throat slit by a disgruntled elf."

Everard did not resist but he did mumble, "I don't want to die."

He said it so quietly that Zevran almost didn't hear it.

"Sometimes I do," he added equally as quiet. "But I really don't. At least, not now. Not in thirty years. Did you know? Wardens only live for thirty years before the taint kicks in and they go down below in the Deep Roads and kill darkspawn until they're overwhelmed. When Alistair told me about that, I was so furious. I didn't sign up for _that._But maybe…maybe it's possible to lessen the affects of the taint? Maybe I can get my life back."

He fell silent after that. Zevran carefully guided him back to the Gnawed Noble Tavern. When they walked in, Leliana was still awake, reading a book. She looked up as they came in. Everard pulled himself out of Zevran's grasp and staggered into the bedroom.

"How much did he drink?" Leliana asked, closing her book.

"I lost count after seven mugs of honey mead," Zevran answered. "I only managed to get down a few drinks before he paid and left."

"I had better mix up that herbal remedy then to cure the headache he'll have in the morning," Leliana sighed. "I was really hoping he was a light drinker."

"He is a rather…talkative drunk," Zevran commented. "He told me about the Circle and his mother. Did you know his family is nobility in Kirkwall?"

Leliana shook her head and replied, "He doesn't talk much about his family. I guess I just needed to get him drunk to hear about it, though."

Zevran chuckled and said, "I am sure you would not want to. He can certainly rant."

"Mhm. Did he tell you he is only eighteen?" Leliana responded, picking up her travel bag and rifling through it.

She did not miss Zevran's slightly shocked look.

"That was my reaction," Leliana remarked. "Shocked silence. Someone so young…"

"He told me that he has thirty years left to live," Zevran said slowly.

"I don't doubt he will have accomplished plenty in that time," Leliana declared. "Perhaps he may find a way to lengthen his lifespan, though. He's certainly smart enough."

Zevran shrugged and walked into the bedroom. Everard was sprawled out on the bed. He'd managed to kick off his boots before he collapsed but that was as far as he got. The elf watched as the mage slept, looking so peaceful.

"You went from one gilded cage to another, hmm?" Zevran murmured before he stepped back out of the room.

OoOoOoOoO

Early the following morning, a very hungover and irritable Everard awoke to find that his companions were sleeping on the floor. He nudged them awake with his feet. Leliana tried to bat his foot away but he persisted until she groaned and said, "What?"

"Wake up. Both of you. We need to think about when we should start heading out," Everard ordered.

Leliana sat straight up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Suddenly, she declared, "I made a potion for you that should cure the headache you more than likely have."

"Mmm…don't need it," Everard replied, reaching up to touch his head. A flare of the blue light associated with healing magic appeared around his hand. He sighed in relief as the magic seemingly seeped into his skin before he let his hand drop back down to his side.

Leliana stared at him in disbelief. "I didn't know that magic could that."

"What?" Everard said, blinking. "Oh. I…uh…didn't know either, actually."

"Then how did you know to do that?" Zevran chimed in from behind him, sounding slightly confused.

Everard got a strange feeling in the pit of his stomach. He honestly had no idea how to answer that.

So, he decided to avoid answering the question and instead he said, "I should go see if the things I bought yesterday have been delivered."

He didn't even put his boots on before he left the room. He hurried down the corridor and walked right up to the bartender.

"Has anything been delivered here?" Everard asked.

"Ah, yes," the bartender replied, reaching down and picking up the small pile of things.

"Thank you," Everard said, taking the pile.

When he got back to the room, Leliana and Zevran already had their light armor on. They seemed to be waiting for him as well. He made a beeline for the bedroom and they followed him.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" He demanded, turning to face them.

Leliana had a worried look on her face as she said, "You have been having…black-outs lately and now you cannot remember where you—"

"If you're thinking that I am possessed then you are _very_ mistaken," Everard interjected. "I just…"

He trailed off and then sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I have special circumstances," he continued. "I don't know why but I do and I'm trying to cope with it."

"Cope with what, though?" Leliana queried.

"The black-outs, the headaches…things that neither you nor anyone else needs to worry about," Everard answered.

"So, are you a special type of mage?" Zevran inquired, sounding intrigued.

"How about we just not talk about this anymore?" Everard suggested, standing back up. "Why don't the two of you leave the room so that I can get dressed and we can leave for Redcliffe?"

His voice had a certain edge to it…irritation, it seemed. Leliana and Zevran did not argue; they merely obeyed because there was no telling what Everard would do if they pressed the matter. It was best _not_ to mess with a mage.

A few terse minutes later, Everard was ready to go. His companions could only stare at him, however. The blue in his shirt brought out his eyes and he looked…a bit older than he had before. And so much more…

"What?" He asked after suffering under their gaze for a bit. "Did I miss a button or something?"

"No, no," Zevran remarked. "You just look devilishly handsome."

"You're only just now realizing that?" Everard smirked. "Anyway, once you've finished gawking, I think we should leave…even though I would rather stab myself in the eye than listen to Isolde go on and on about her son being a mage and Eamon's illness. Oh, and let's not forget how she's continuously been harping on the fact that I let Jowan free. If I truly believed in the Maker, I'd ask Him to give me enough willpower to deal with Isolde so that I may continue to resist the urge to light her on fire."

"Isolde isn't _that_ bad," Leliana commented.

Everard rolled his eyes and imitated that sound of Isolde's voice as he said, "Who is this impertinent man, Teagan?"

Leliana couldn't help but laugh at that and then she replied, "Or maybe she is."

"Exactly," Everard responded. "Oh, Zevran, you'll love Isolde. Everyone does."

"Am I correct in assuming that that is sarcasm?" Zevran asked, smiling even though he had no idea who Leliana and Everard were talking about.

"Well, you're smart as well as charming, aren't you?" Everard said, grinning slyly. "Now then, off to Redcliffe we go."


	10. Bottled Up

_Chapter Ten: Bottled Up_

Over the course of the next week, Everard and his companions essentially accomplished quite a bit despite a few bumps on the road along the way, such as when Everard made a wrong turn on their way from Redcliffe to the village of Haven. Due to his sense of misdirection, they came across a merchant named Felix after an hour or two of wandering. For some reason, Felix decided to give Everard a control rod for a golem. Rather than go to Haven—they were already off-track anyway—they went to a town called Honnleath, where the golem was. There they—Everard, Leliana, Zevran, and Morrigan—killed a couple of darkspawn, rescued a few townspeople, and got the correct code to activate the golem after saving a little girl from a desire demon. And that's when something else went wrong. The control rod didn't actually work. Shale, the golem, had free will, which Everard was glad for and yet he couldn't help but wonder what had happened.

They ended up backtracking to Redcliffe and starting their journey to Haven over. As tranquil and nice as Haven seemed, the townspeople were definitely hiding a dark secret. This secret being that Brother Genitivi had been taken hostage by them. Everard and his companions had to fight through most of the townspeople before they could get Genitivi safely on a caravan bound for Denerim.

As for the Urn of Sacred Ashes, it was a real and, as Zevran so eloquently put it, the vase was very nice. Getting to it was the hard part but, then again, it wasn't an adventure unless someone or something was trying to kill you. Mostly they were attacked by religious fanatics who believed that a dragon was the risen Andraste. Naturally, Everard talked the leader of the fanatics—Kolgrim—out of killing them by accepting his offer to desecrate the Urn. Everard didn't actually pour the dragon blood into the vase and so Kolgrim attacked them anyway. And then they fought a high dragon…

The whole trek was worth it when the Ashes actually cured Eamon's sickness. As expected, he wasn't too happy after he heard that Jowan was set free but he got over it because there were far more pressing matters. Namely, Loghain's civil war and the Blight.

Everard was half-drunk when Eamon started blathering on about a Landsmeet. At that point, he was ready to retire from the Wardens and go live in Antiva or Rivain. Probably Rivain. It more than likely would have less assassins.

When Eamon asked Everard's opinion on the matter, he just said, "Go ahead. Call a Landsmeet. Put Alistair forth for the throne. As long as it all ends this petty civil war."

With that said, he went upstairs to his room. He could only imagine the surprised look on Eamon's face at his abruptness. Everard locked his bedroom door and sat down on the end of his bed. He shucked his boots off, removed his bracers and gloves, and took off his overcoat. There was a knock at the door but he ignored it. Another knock made his hands twitch. A third knock finally made him yell,

"It's locked for a bloody reason! Leave me alone!"

"I'm sorry, messere, but Arl Eamon wants to know if you will be joining him and the others for dinner," a voice replied, unwavering despite his outburst.

"Tell Eamon he can shove his—" He broke off and sighed. "Tell Eamon I won't be joining him."

"Will you be taking your dinner in your room then, messere?" The servant asked.

"I guess so," Everard answered.

"Once more, I did not mean to bother you," the servant said. Then, Everard heard the sound of them leaving.

He walked over to his traveling bag and pulled out the bottle of wine he'd taken from Wynne earlier on in the day. It was why he had been half-drunk at his meeting with Eamon. Although, he hadn't exactly been expecting Eamon to want to talk about what to do next right after he woke up. He thought it'd be a good time to get drunk and yet...

"Blasted nobles," he grumbled, uncorking the bottle.

But he stopped halfway through that process. He stared at the bottle for a long moment before he set it down on the writing desk. He sat down on the end of the bed and just stared at the wine bottle. After awhile of that, he buried his face in his hands and broke down.

It was all too much. Everyone had such high expectations of him. Everyone looked to him for leadership. He never asked for any of it. All he'd wanted to do was help Jowan escape and even that hadn't quite worked. To make matters worse, Eamon had asked Everard to look for Jowan. He was worried that the man was dangerous because he was a blood mage.

Everard looked up and grit his teeth. Blood magic. Everyone believed it was evil. He had seen it in Wynne's eyes when she'd approached him after the battle with Uldred. She had openly expressed her concerns a few days later at camp when she'd managed to corner him by Bodahn's wagon. He had yelled at her and stormed off into the woods. It didn't accomplish anything. He could still see her giving him furtive looks every so often.

A knock at the door brought Everard back to the present. He wondered who it was this time and if Eamon would mind that person's blood spattered all over the walls. With the mood he was in, that's probably what would happen.

"Er…Everard?"

Alistair. Definitely couldn't kill that one.

"What?" Everard croaked. He hadn't realized his throat had gone dry due to his uncontrollable sobbing earlier.

"Can I…come in?" Alistair asked cautiously.

Everyone seemed to be so careful with their words around Everard, even Sten and Shale. It was infuriating.

"No," Everard answered curtly.

"I didn't want to have to ask Leliana to pick the lock," Alistair said warningly.

Everard groaned and stood up. He unlocked the door and pulled it open. Alistair's shocked face told Everard just how terrible he probably looked. He couldn't have cared less.

"Come in or leave," he growled.

Alistair carefully stepped inside and Everard slammed the door shut behind him. And locked it so there wouldn't be any interruptions that couldn't be ignored.

"What do you want?" Everard demanded, brushing by Alistair and going straight for the bottle of wine.

"You weren't at dinner," Alistair replied. "And the servant who brought up your food said you didn't answer the door. She said it sounded like you were…crying. At least, that's what she told me. She told everyone else that you'd decided to retire for the night. So…are you alright?"

"Do I look alright to you?" Everard snarled, rounding on the man. "No, I don't, do I? Stupid question. Absolutely stupid."

Alistair looked uncertain but he still spoke, "I…er…I want to make sure…that you—"

"That I don't suddenly snap and kill everyone?" Everard finished.

"What? No. No! I mean…you've been awfully quiet lately and, when you do say something, it's…" Alistair faltered.

"Abrasive?" Everard suggested.

Alistair nodded.

"You drew the short straw, didn't you?" Everard remarked. "They all know I'm having a slight break down. But it's their fault. They expect me to make all of the bloody decisions. I'm not the senior Warden here. _You_ are. And _you_ will be leading the country if Eamon gets his way."

"No one else knows, I assure you," Alistair replied. "And I chose to come up here on my own. I knew you'd need someone to talk to. After how that meeting with Eamon ended…"

"I was sick of listening to the sound of his voice," Everard retorted, uncorking the bottle the rest of the way.

He froze the contents and then threw the wine bottle onto the floor, effectively shattering it. Before the pieces could melt, they caught fire and disintegrated into nothing. Alistair was taken aback by this action but he said nothing about it.

Instead, he tried going for humor with, "Well, I don't much care for the sound of his voice either."

His humor fell flat. Everard scowled at him.

"You have been spending far too much time with Morrigan," Alistair commented. "Her sourness has rubbed off on you."

Everard's face softened somewhat but he still had a dark look in his eyes that made the hair on the back of Alistair's neck stand up.

"Would you like to know what I am the most resentful about? It's not just that I'm our impromptu leader—which I should be used to by now—or will die in thirty years. No, it's your opinions on blood magic. Not just yours but Wynne's, Leliana's, Eamon's…the list could go on," Everard said. "I am sick of hearing about how awful blood magic is. It isn't inherently evil. How you use it determines that. I sometimes feel like I am the only one who realizes this."

Alistair shifted uncomfortably and then replied, "I must admit that the Chantry has been wrong on a lot of things. Blood magic could be one of those but…the power to control someone else at will…it's dangerous."

"Mages can choose the spells they use and when they use them," Everard responded. "You just saw me do something like this."

"Yes. You needlessly destroyed a bottle of wine," Alistair retorted, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

He caught the small smile on Everard's face before the young man turned away.

"You remind me of Anders a bit," Everard admitted with his back to Alistair. "Endless wit…and sometimes you come up with stupid ideas. The thing that separates you, though, is not just that he's a mage and you're technically a templar but…also the fact that…" He trailed off.

"What?" Alistair asked.

"I almost lost my train of thought," Everard muttered. "But…what I was saying was that…you're a bastard prince. And you believe in the Maker a little more heartily than Anders."

Everard suddenly flopped down on the bed and leaned back.

"The decisions I have made and will make are going to impact so many other people," he said quietly. "But all I want to do is try to save my friends and ensure their safety. I don't care about Ferelden all that much. I'm more loyal to my friends than I will ever be to Ferelden."

Alistair gave him a peculiar look and then asked, "So, if you have to choose between saving one of your friends or saving the citizens of a town overrun with darkspawn, you would save your friend instead of the citizens?"

"Think logically about that one, Alistair," Everard replied. "If a town is overrun with darkspawn than it has more than likely been lost. There is a slim chance of people still being alive and, if they're smart, they can save themselves by running away."

He sat up and continued, "What if the town is lost and even the guard captain says it's lost? And there's a whole darkspawn army headed towards—"

He stopped as a cold chill went down his spine. There was something about what he was about to say that sounded…possible. He didn't know if that was really the word for it, though.

"It doesn't matter anyway," Everard declared. "We need to be well-rested for tomorrow, so it would be wise for us to go to bed."

"Tomorrow?" Alistair repeated, sounding slightly confused.

"We—or, at least, I—will be going to Orzammar," Everard said. "Hopefully that will be a quick trip so we can head for the Brecilian Forest and see if there are any Dalish there." He paused and added sarcastically, "Then, we get to prepare for the glorious and very fun sounding Landsmeet."

"What if we spend more time in Orz—" Alistair began.

"If there is a Maker and He does not want Orzammar destroyed, then our trip there will not take more than a day," Everard interrupted.

"I honestly can't tell if you're being sarcastic there," Alistair replied.

"Neither can I," Everard responded, smirking.

"Well…er…I guess I should sleep then," Alistair stammered. "If I can," he added under his breath.

Everard stood up and walked over to the door. He unlocked it and opened it only to find one of Arl Eamon's servants standing there.

"Do you need something?" Everard asked the young woman.

"Arl Eamon would like to see you, messere," she answered.

"Tell him that I cannot oblige him," Everard rejoined.

"Come _on,_ Everard. The least you could do is hear what he has to say," Alistair said from behind him.

The servant's eyes widened upon seeing Alistair in the room. Everard could only imagine what she was thinking.

"If whatever you are thinking right now is dirty and involves myself and him, I suggest that you push those thoughts aside and leave while you can," Everard said calmly.

The servant just nodded and hurried away.

"W-what?" Alistair stuttered. "What was…that?"

"Would you like me to draw a picture of where she thought I touched you?" Everard asked, turning to face his friend.

"Maker, no," Alistair responded. "I-I think I know now."

"Aw, your ignorance is fading. What a shame," Everard replied, shooing Alistair out of the room.

"Are you going to talk to Eamon?" Alistair queried once he was outside the room.

"Perhaps," Everard said. "More than likely? No."

With that, he slammed the door shut and locked it. For good measure, he cast a spell that would make any outside noise unable to get in. This way, he wouldn't hear anyone knocking at his door or talking through it.

With that accomplished, Everard dug through his bag for a moment until he found the letters that his mother had written to him. He hadn't looked at them since he'd recovered them. He carefully undid the red ribbon holding them together. The Amell crest was emblazoned in gold on the ribbon. Everard stared at his family crest for awhile before he gently set the ribbon aside. He took the letter from the bottom of the stack. This was the one that notified him of his mother's death. He reread it even though he could have recited it word-for-word in his head.

"My dearest Everard," he repeated once he finished rereading it.

He stood up and went over to the writing desk. He fished out a piece of parchment from his bag and managed to find an inkwell and a quill in there as well. He didn't know how those had got there but they had…somehow. He sat down at the desk and took a deep breath before he composed his letter:

[Dear Mother,

It saddens me to know that you will never receive this letter. In fact, I do not understand why I am writing this letter in the first place. You have been dead for a year now, after all. I just feel like writing to say that I often wish to be able to punch the Maker in the face. There are many reasons for this urge but I do not wish to pen them.

Would you be proud of me if you saw me now? Half-drunk, sleep depraved, and often wishing I had refused to be made a Warden and instead had been executed for helping Jowan escape. Speaking of Jowan, that man is rather an idiot. He got caught even after I helped him and I had to free him again. Is that what Eamon wants to talk about? Probably not. He has let me know how he feels about Jowan being free again. I just hope that Eamon does not wish to discuss this Landsmeet or anything else like that.

After all, there are more important things than maleficarum and darkspawn and who should be king. For example, why am I having these visions of this strange young man and, sometimes, his brother? What has caused this to happen? Are these visions even set in the present or are they the past or, Maker forbid, set in the future? And why are they only of this auburn-haired man?

Even if you are dead, it still felt good to write that out. To admit that it is happening. My hand is already beginning to hurt and so is my head. Andraste's flaming arse. Why does my head hurt so much? Perhaps I need to try to sleep.

Much love,

Everard Amell]

OoOoOoOoO

**Author****'****s****Note:**Thank you so much to those reading, alerting, reviewing, favoriting etc.

This chapter was mainly to show that the pressure Everard is under does sometimes get to him. He just hadn't had time to think about it until this chapter since he's been surrounded by his companions most hours of the day. After all, it would look rather odd if he broke down in the middle of camp—especially to Sten or Shale, I'm sure.

Just as a random aside, Everard's letter was written in Size 12 Papyrus (Bold) Font since that's sort of how I imagined his handwriting. Obviously, for formatting reasons, that font had to change. And now I'm off to see to the next chapter.


	11. Don't Look Back

_Chapter Eleven: Don't Look Back_

As it was, Everard did not sleep very much. Early in the morning, he decided that he had had enough of tossing and turning in bed. He got up, put his boots on, and went downstairs to the kitchen area. Luckily, the chef was awake and already preparing breakfast. Although, the middle-aged woman was startled to see Everard.

"Oh! You must be the other Warden," she said, her hand fluttering to her heart. "You must forgive me for being so surprised at seeing you. No one else is usually awake at this hour."

"I should be the one apologizing," Everard replied. "I have to admit that probably I don't exactly look my best right now."

He looked down at his crumpled shirt and pants. He noticed that he still had ink on his fingers. He didn't doubt for a moment that there was probably ink smudged on his face as well.

"Well, have a seat," the woman offered, pulling a chair over to him.

He nodded and sat down carefully.

"Being a Grey Warden must be quite stressful," she remarked.

"It can be," Everard muttered. "But I have other things on my mind right now besides the Blight and the civil war."

The woman seemed surprised by this but she didn't say anything except, "Would you like me to make you a bowl of this oatmeal I'm cooking up?"

"Yes," Everard replied. "Perhaps you could make something else to go with it? I haven't had anything to eat since yesterday afternoon."

"You must be starving!" The woman gasped.

Then, she went off to prepare his breakfast. Everard was thankful for this. He leaned his head back and shut his eyes, thinking back to the vision he'd had last night.

"You're such an idiot!" Carver had said to the auburn-haired man. "What were you thinking, using magic in front of that man like that?"

"It's not like he's going to ever tell someone. He's dead," the young man had replied, shrugging.

"What if someone else had seen you?" Carver demanded. "Do you know how much danger you'd put our family in?"

"We would've been in _real_ danger if I hadn't used my magic against him," the grey-eyed man rejoined.

Carver got a strange look in his eyes and then he muttered, "Just don't do it again, alright?"

Everard was startled out of his recalling of the vision by the chef asking if he was alright. He jumped slightly and opened his eyes.

"Yes. I'm fine," Everard quickly replied.

"Here, take this," the woman said, handing him a mug. "It is Antivan brandy and it should…help calm your nerves."

"Do I look so awful?" Everard asked, taking a swig of the brandy.

"I did not mean to offend, messere," the woman answered modestly.

"It was…just a joke," Everard responded. "Oh. What is your name?" He added sheepishly.

"My name is Margaret, messere," she replied. "What is yours if I may be so bold to ask?"

"Everard," the mage muttered before he took another drink of the brandy.

They spoke no further after that. Margaret focused more on making him food and Everard tried to clear his mind of all thought. He failed, of course, but he figured it hadn't hurt to at least _try._

OoOoOoOoO

Once Everard was fed, he decided to go see what Eamon wanted even though he still didn't necessarily care. As expected, Eamon was in his study, sitting at his desk. He looked up as Everard came inside.

"Shut the door, would you?" Eamon enjoined.

Everard sat down in the chair across from Eamon's desk after he closed the door. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and waited for Eamon to speak again.

"Why did you not come to dinner last night?" Eamon asked, staring intently at the younger man.

"I was not in the mood to listen to you prattle on about anything," Everard answered. "Also, I don't need anyone telling me what I need to do. I know that I still must go to Orzammar and attempt to find the Dalish elves."

He paused for a moment before he continued, "I only saved you because I know that having you on our side will prove to be useful. In fact, Alistair seems to hold you in high regards even though you shipped him off to the nearest chantry when he was just a boy. He hated it there, by the way. You'd think he would resent you as well but, no, he's too naïve to realize that he meant almost nothing to you."

Surprisingly enough, Eamon managed to maintain his composure despite those accusations.

"You are quite the abrasive one, aren't you?" Eamon replied.

"I am told it is one of my admirable traits," Everard responded. "Now that you know my opinion of you, what is it you wanted to talk about?"

"You seem to enjoy Teagan's company," Eamon said, ignoring Everard's question.

"Yes, well, I actually like Teagan. He is a dedicated man…among other things. It is almost hard to believe that you are brothers, actually. Shall we move on—"

"Yes. We should. I wanted to ask you about the Circle of Magi."

"Ah, that's right. You want to send your son off to the Gilded Cage of Ferelden. Are you asking if I recommend you doing that?"

"Connor must go to the Circle. It is inevitable."

"I can say this much, at the very least, he will receive an excellent education in the Circle. But will he like it there? I highly doubt it."

Eamon folded his hands on his desk and gazed steadily at the mage in front of him. Everard's eyes narrowed.

"Is that why Jowan left?" Eamon inquired.

"We are not going to talk about my friend," Everard retorted.

"Your _friend_ poisoned me. He was the cause of everything that happened in Redcliffe and _you_ let him go," Eamon rejoined.

He sounded angry but he did not raise his voice at all.

[So, he's a quiet one, is he? I'm sure I can get him to yell soon enough,]Everard thought conspiratorially.

Everard leaned back in his chair and said, "I let him go. And why not? He thought you were a threat to the safety of Ferelden. He did not know that Loghain is a liar. In fact, he had no idea that I was conscripted into the Wardens. I'm sure he knows that now but…before he thought he had lost everything; the woman he loved, his two best friends, and so on. Thus, he wanted to do something good. Besides, everything worked out in the end…why harp on it?"

"Your friend is a dangerous blood mage. Don't think I have forgotten that," Eamon retorted.

Everard chortled and said, "Dangerous? Jowan? I won't refute the blood mage part but…my friend isn't dangerous unless he chooses to be. He did not use his magic against Isolde or the guards when they detained him. He could have _very_ easily taken them out. But he didn't because, alas, Isolde is still alive."

"Your friendship with him has clearly blinded you—" Eamon began.

"I have known Jowan since I was about five years old," Everard interrupted. "During these past thirteen years, he and I have become almost like brothers. Yes, he is a maleficar. Yes, he left me at the hands of the templars, knowing I couldn't come with him without also being branded a maleficar. He has made many mistakes. He wants to try to make up for all of the bad he's done and I know he will do his best."

"Blood magic is—" Eamon tried again.

"Jowan learned blood magic from books. Books that I myself have read. Granted, I mainly learned from an old grimoire but still," Everard shrugged at the last bit.

Eamon's eyes widened at Everard's admission.

"My companions know, so I figured you should know as well since we will be working together," Everard declared. "Was that all you wanted to talk about?"

When Eamon said nothing due to how shocked he was, Everard stood up and left the room. The sound the door made as it shut behind him sounded loud in his ears.

OoOoOoOoO

He half-expected guards to appear at his door and drag him down to the dungeons. But that didn't happen and he was rather glad for it since he would never allow himself to be locked up again. At least, not without a fight. Then again, Eamon probably wouldn't do something like that as long as Alistair was still around.

It was then that there was a knock on his bedroom door. He wondered for a moment if he had spoken too soon.

"Who is it?" Everard demanded, getting off his bed and readying himself for a fight.

"I do not have the patience to answer such an idiotic question," Morrigan's voice replied.

Everard smiled to himself and opened the door. She brushed by him and into the room. He closed the door and turned to face her. Morrigan was standing in the middle of the room with her arms crossed over her chest.

"May I help you?" Everard asked.

"There is something that I must tell you," Morrigan declared, scowling.

"Oh? What might that be?" Everard replied, stepping towards her.

"I have been studying Mother's grimoire. Do you wish to hear what I've found?" Morrigan said.

"What did you find?" Everard asked.

"'Tis not what I expected. I had hoped for a collection of her spells, a map of the power that she commands. But this is not it," Morrigan answered.

"You look a bit disturbed," Everard observed, walking over and putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Disturbed? Yes. Perhaps that is the right word," Morrigan agreed, seemingly ignoring his gesture of affection.

She went on to tell Everard exactly what she found. Apparently, the grimoire contained the explanation of how Flemeth extended her unnatural lifespan. As it was, she had a daughter, trained said daughter to become a powerful witch, and then she took over her daughter's body once the one she already inhabited started to age. The process of possession essentially kills her daughter. And that was what Flemeth planned on doing to Morrigan.

"There is only one way to ensure that this does not happen to me; Flemeth must be slain," Morrigan concluded.

"You want me to kill Flemeth, the feared Witch of the Wilds?" Everard asked incredulously.

"I am confident that you can manage the task. Alas, I cannot come with you for it is likely Flemeth will try to possess me before she is slain," Morrigan responded.

Everard just stared at her.

"The sooner she is dead, the better," Morrigan declared. "My mind will be much more at ease in knowing I am safe from her clutches."

Everard sat down on the end of the bed and sighed.

"Alright, alright. I guess I'll…kill Flemeth. I don't rightly know how I will manage it but…I've done impossible tasks before, I guess," he remarked.

Morrigan gave him a curt nod before she let herself out of his room. It was at this moment that Everard realized that this was actually the perfect opportunity. Perhaps Flemeth might know something about his visions.

OoOoOoOoO

"I am postponing our trip to Orzammar for three days," Everard announced to his companions as they ate breakfast later that morning.

"What? Why?" Alistair cried.

"We need more time to rest," Everard lied expertly. "The weather is getting colder and it will be even worse when we travel to Orzammar. I don't want to have to stop and set up camp with snow piling up around us. So, those of you I'm bringing with me will need your rest."

"Who are you taking?" Wynne inquired.

"I haven't figured that out yet," Everard shrugged. "That's another reason why the trip is being postponed."

"What are we supposed to do for three days?" Alistair demanded.

"You're all old enough to figure that out on your own," Everard replied, looking at Alistair pointedly.

When no one said anything else, Everard left the dining hall and headed for his bedroom. He only made it halfway there before Alistair called his name. He picked up his pace and didn't look back. But Alistair managed to catch up.

"What are you planning?" Alistair asked, matching his pace with Everard's.

"Who said I was planning anything?" Everard rejoined.

"I'm more intelligent than you give me credit for," Alistair retorted, grabbing Everard's arm and bringing the younger man to a halt.

"That you are," Everard agreed. "I'm sorry, by the way."

"For what?" Alistair inquired.

"For this," Everard muttered.

Suddenly, Alistair slumped forward and Everard caught him. He gently leaned his friend against the stone wall before he continued on his way to his room.

OoOoOoOoO

An hour later, Alistair awoke. For a moment, he did not remember how he had ended up falling asleep in the middle of the hallway. Then, the events that had occurred came back to him. Everard had used a sleeping spell on him. Alistair groaned and stood up. He made his way down the hallway at a pace that he thought could have been faster if it weren't for the fact that all of his muscles ached.

As Alistair had expected, Everard's room was devoid of the mage. His bag was still there but his overcoat and the pouch that held his potions and such were missing. His staff was gone as well.

He rarely ever cursed but Alistair let one slip this time. Leliana was walking by the room, heard him, and peered inside the room.

"Is there something wrong?" She asked before she noticed the things missing from the room, "Oh. He…left?"

"Where could he have gone?" Alistair demanded, turning to face her.

"Are the letters from his mother still here?" Leliana inquired.

"The…letters? I don't know. I didn't check his things," Alistair answered, picking up Everard's travel bag.

He rifled through it, feeling a little guilty as he did so. Finally, he found the stack of parchments tied with the red ribbon.

"He would never leave those behind if he did not intend to return," Leliana remarked.

"He said these were letters, right?" Alistair muttered. "This one at the top looks like it was written recently."

Pushing aside his feeling of guilt, Alistair undid the ribbon and read the aforementioned letter.

"Visions?" He said after reading it. Alistair turned to Leliana again and asked, "Has he mentioned anything about visions to you?"

Leliana shook her head and Alistair glanced back down at the letter.

"Maker's breath. Why didn't he tell us?" Alistair wondered out loud. "And where did he go?"

"I know where he is," Morrigan suddenly said from the doorway. "But you will not be able to catch up with him."

Alistair rounded on her and demanded, "Where? Where is he?"

"I asked him for a favor and he is doing it for me," Morrigan answered cryptically.

"If he doesn't come back in one piece, Morrigan, I'll—" Alistair began.

"I am just as worried as you are," Morrigan interjected even though she didn't look or sound worried at all. "I still care about him even though his attention has wandered…elsewhere."

"You did not answer Alistair," Leliana pointed out.

Morrigan scowled at the other woman and said, "He went to slay my mother."

Alistair's jaw dropped in a rather comical manner.

"I shall explain why if you would like," Morrigan declared, inspecting her nails.

"Yes, please, do that," Leliana responded.

OoOoOoOoO

If Everard was honest with himself, he had no idea where he was going. Well, he did in a way. He could feel the pull of powerful magic up ahead but it might not be Flemeth he was sensing. Surely there had to be someone far more powerful than her. Of course, Everard very much doubted there was. If Morrigan was to be believed, Flemeth was…so much more than she seemed, which meant…the fight he was about to immerse himself in was rather one-sided. Flemeth would undoubtedly win. Unless there was another option…

Everard stopped to rest. The sun was high up in the sky now, which placed the time at midday. If his map was correct, he was traveling through the Hinterlands, which he could only describe as swampy woodlands.

And it was cold. That was the number one thing that Everard really noticed. He was glad that he had on warm clothes and even more glad for the scarf that Wynne had knitted for him…and everyone else. He wondered how she found the time to knit scarves.

Suddenly, a brisk wind blew through the trees, sending a few birds scattering. Everard was beginning to question the logic of traveling to the Korcari Wilds alone.

[I can still turn back,]he told himself as he played with Morrigan's ring. [And yet I shouldn't. Because I knocked Alistair out so that I could leave. How do I explain that? 'Oh, sorry, I used magic to put you to sleep. I just did it for fun, really.' That conversation would not go over well.]

The sudden sound of a twig snapping caught Everard's attention. When he looked up, he saw nothing.

[Maybe it's just a deer or something,]he thought. [No need to worry about Flemeth coming to greet you herself.]

But as he resumed walking, he began to feel like he was being watched. He wondered if maybe Flemeth actually _had_ come to meet him. Or if it was something else entirely. He actually hoped that it wasn't Flemeth.

Strangely enough, he stumbled across Flemeth's hut not too long after thinking that. He could have sworn that he wouldn't get there until nightfall at the earliest. Granted, Flemeth was quite powerful and it was possible that she had…altered the area somehow to make Everard get there faster.

In fact, as though to make this seem true, Flemeth was standing outside of her hut. Everard felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up when he saw her. She only _looked_ like a harmless old woman…

"And so you return," she declared once Everard was within earshot. "Lovely Morrigan has at last found someone willing to dance to her tune. Such enchanting music she plays, wouldn't you say?"

Everard stood up a little straighter and replied, "Should I dance to your tune instead?"

"Why dance at all? Why not sing?" Flemeth responded, laughing that bone-chilling laugh of hers.

Everard took a step back from her and she stopped cackling.

"What has Morrigan told you, hmm?" She inquired. "What little plan has she hatched this time?"

"She knows how you extend your…unnatural lifespan, Flemeth," Everard answered, sounding calm despite the fear he felt inside.

"That she does. The question is, do you?" The old woman retorted.

Everard opened his mouth to say something but Flemeth cut him off, "Ahhh, but it is an old, old story. One that Flemeth has heard before…and even told. Let us skip right to the ending, shall we? Do you slay the old witch as Morrigan bids? Or does the tale take a different turn?"

[So, she's giving me options. Well, that was unexpected,]Everard thought.

She gazed at him expectantly. He cleared his throat and asked, "What do you have in mind?"

Everard did not miss the glint her eye before she proposed, "Morrigan wishes my grimoire? Take it as a trophy. Tell her I am slain."

He shifted uncomfortably and inquired, "And what happens to you?"

"I go. Perhaps I surprise Morrigan one day…or I may simply watch," she answered. "It would be interesting to see what she does with her freedom. Enlightening, even. Would you give an old woman that?"

"You aren't just any old woman," Everard replied.

"Perhaps. But that is not what we are discussing, is it?" Flemeth responded.

Everard sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Morrigan couldn't possibly believe that Everard killed her mother without any help. It just…it didn't seem possible.

As if she had read his mind, Flemeth remarked, "We believe what we want to believe. It's all we ever do."

Everard looked down at Morrigan's ring. He didn't want to fight Flemeth but he…didn't want to lie to Morrigan either. However…

"I…could do that. Pretend that I…killed you and took the grimoire as a trophy," Everard said.

"It's far easier this way, don't you think? The lies are always more fun," Flemeth declared, sounding almost…happy. "The book is inside the hut, with notes and spells enough to make even Morrigan blush with delight."

And then her eyes met Everard's and she held his gaze as she added, "You and I will not meet again. **That** I can guarantee."

Everard nodded and edged past her into the already unlocked hut. He walked over to the first chest he spotted and opened it. Sure enough, Flemeth's grimoire was inside it. He picked it up and shuddered as he felt a chill go through his whole body. He tucked it under his arm and went back outside. Flemeth was still there. She was turned so that she was now facing the entrance to her house.

"May I…ask you something?" Everard said, trying to meet her eyes but finding it difficult to do so.

"What is it? Changed your mind already? I change knickers less quickly," Flemeth scoffed.

"What? No. I…no. I just…" Everard trailed off, realizing just how bad of an idea this was.

Flemeth suddenly smiled and said, "Your visions?"

He probably shouldn't have been surprised that she knew what he wanted to ask. But he was.

"Perhaps if you speak to the person in your visions, they will go away," she suggested.

Everard could only nod at that. It seemed so simple...

"I…yes. Well, good bye," he said quickly.

He walked right by her this time—he was still fearful of her but…he doubted she would harm him. She did not move or even blink as he past her and that was somewhat unsettling. As he walked away, he couldn't help but look back. The moment that he did this, something hit him in the back, knocking him to the soft ground. The grimoire skittered across the ground out of his reach. He groaned in pain and tried to get up. Something sharp hit him in the side, forcing him back down. Everard put his hand to his side and gasped. He looked at his hand and saw…blood. His vision blurred and he shook his head to refocus it.

Ignoring the pain, he started to get up again. Nothing knocked him back down this time. He staggered over to the grimoire and picked it up. Through sheer force of willpower, Everard started running in order to get as far away from Flemeth's hut as possible. He ran until the pain in his side refused to be ignored. He leaned against a tree and racked his brain for any healing spell that could stop bleeding. But everything was so jumbled and mixed up…and nothing came to mind except,

[I can't die here.]

A cold wind blew through the trees. Everard stumbled forward and…he saw a light in the distance. A fire. He forced himself to move in that direction. He got closer and closer and then…his whole world darkened before he could reach the flickering firelight.

OoOoOoOoO

**Author****'****s****Note:** As always, thank you to those reading, reviewing, favoriting, alerting, etc.

The final encounter with Flemeth is one of my favorite parts of Origins, mainly because Flemeth is rather awesome despite the whole body snatching thing she does to stay alive. Now, there was one time (and only one time) where I tried to have my character (a City Elf Rogue) fight her and…well…he died within the first minute. So now I just decide, "Eh, lie to Morrigan and avoid a huge fight." But then, as I as I was writing this part, I realized, "Wait. If Everard comes back completely unscathed, wouldn't Morrigan notice something is off, especially since he specializes mainly in primal magic and not healing?" And thus the cliffhanger was born.


	12. Blood Brothers

_Chapter Twelve: Blood Brothers_

Fire crackling. Quiet voices talking to one another. An owl hooting somewhere. Soft ground beneath him. A warm blanket draped over him to keep out the chill. And then a sharp pain in his side.

His eyes shot open and he jolted upright, looking around wildly and seeing only dark shapes and shadows.

"It's alright!" A voice cried. "Please, lie back down. You need to rest."

Everard did not try to resist the hands that gently pushed him back down. However, he refused to sleep any further. Instead, he turned his head to look at the small fire lit nearby. He watched as the flames danced. He reached out as though to touch them but someone grabbed his wrist.

"You need to sleep," that same voice said. "You will feel better with more rest."

Everard could not resist as the owner of the voice cast a sleeping spell over him. He was just thinking about the irony of that when he was enveloped by the darkness again.

OoOoOoOoO

When Everard came to once more, the fire was out. There were people moving about but they were blocked as a man came into view. Everard focused his gaze on the man; there was a red scar on his face that curved from his mouth and upwards to his hairline, giving the impression of a permanent wide smirk. He had unruly black hair that was a stark contrast to his finely trimmed beard and moustache. The man's eyes were possibly the darkest brown that Everard had ever seen. And his clothes were probably the dirtiest. In fact, his shirt had a rather obvious bloodstain across the front.

"He's awake, Levyn," the man announced, looking over someone that Everard couldn't see.

Everard started to sit up but the man held him down.

"It would be best if you waited to move," he remarked.

"You could be a little gentler with him." Everard knew that voice. The one who had put him back to sleep. But that wasn't all…

"Jowan…?" Everard said slowly, unsure if it truly was his old friend.

Jowan's face replaced the other man's. But he looked different. His hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail and he had actually shaved his stubble. Also, he had traded in his robes for doeskin trousers and a grey tunic.

"I didn't know that you knew each other," the man commented.

"I'm sorry, Paxton. I would have mentioned it but I was a little busy trying to heal his wounds," Jowan replied.

"Yes, well, I think he needs to explain to us what happened. And what that…book is that he has," Paxton retorted.

Everard tried to sit up again and this time Jowan helped him. He handed Everard a skin of water and told him to drink it before he tried speaking again. He did this, draining the whole thing in one gulp. He ended up coughing as the water seemed to go down his throat the wrong way.

"By the way," Jowan said as Everard coughed and tried to regain his breath, "your staff was snapped in half."

Everard's face drained of color at that.

"Wh-where is it?" He asked.

"It's not salvageable," Paxton chimed in. "It was snapped clean in two."

Everard reached out and grabbed Jowan by the front of his tunic.

"Where is it?" He demanded through gritted teeth.

He suddenly felt cold steel against his throat and Paxton said warningly, "Back off or I will make you, boy."

The air briefly sizzled with electricity before Everard released Jowan.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, averting his gaze from both men. "That staff was…special to me. We'd survived a lot together, that staff and I."

"Is it the one that you took from the repository?" Jowan inquired.

Everard nodded and then said, "I need to leave. I have to get back to Redcliffe."

"No," Paxton rejoined. "You have to tell us what in Andraste's name happened to you and what that…that book is."

Paxton gestured over to Flemeth's grimoire, which was lying close by.

"You wouldn't believe me," Everard replied matter-of-factly.

He reached out and grabbed the book. A cold chill went down his spine but he ignored it as he brought the grimoire closer. He did not miss the looks that Paxton and Jowan exchanged.

"What?" He asked.

"You need to tell us," Paxton pressed. "After one of our friends touched that…thing," he scowled at the grimoire, "he started to vomit blood. He's alright _now_ but…it was still rather shocking."

[Alright. If he wants to know, then I'll tell him,]Everard thought.

Everard played with the clasp on the grimoire as he said, "I had a run-in with Flemeth and ended up with her grimoire."

"Bullshit," Paxton snarled.

"No," Jowan retorted. "No, he's definitely telling the truth."

Paxton stared at Jowan in disbelief and Jowan shrugged. Paxton shook his head and said, "Fine then. He's telling the truth. However, that still leaves many other questions."

Everard knew that telling Paxton that he was a Grey Warden would be a bad idea, considering how many people believed Loghain's lie that the Wardens betrayed Cailan.

"I don't exactly have the time to deal with this," Everard remarked. "I need to leave."

"Why are you in such a hurry?" Paxton demanded.

Everard ignored him and slowly stood up, holding the book by the binding. For a brief moment, he felt lightheaded and a little ill. It passed quickly, though, and Everard started to try to move forward. But then an arrow flew by his head, narrowly missing his right ear. He stopped in his tracks as he realized that the other people in the camp had drawn their weapons. And some of them had staves. Not including Jowan and Paxton, there were ten others. Some were elves but the majority was made up of humans. Paxton stood up and told the others to stand down. Jowan also climbed back up to his feet, a worried look marring his features.

Everard took one step forward, dropped the book, stumbled, and would have fallen had Paxton not reached out and caught him. Everard then proceeded to hurl all over the poor man's boots. Instantly, Paxton shoved Everard away from him. The young man hit the ground hard enough to knock the wind out of his lungs.

"Just lovely," Paxton grumbled, glaring down at Everard.

"He couldn't help it. He tried to move too soon," Jowan said, kneeling down beside his friend. To Everard he added, "You need to rest some more."

"No," Everard replied, wincing. "I need to get back to Redcliffe. If I'm not back soon, the others will start to worry and then I'll have a whole new problem on my hands."

"What others are he talking about?" Paxton asked.

"His companions," Jowan sighed, running a hand over his face.

"Exactly," Everard confirmed. "As I said, if I don't—"

"Then I will gladly take you back," Paxton interjected. "After you tell us what happened between you and Flemeth."

"I made a deal with her," Everard said, "that involves lying to a friend of mine and giving her the grimoire to help strengthen the lie."

"What are you lying about?" Someone else nearby asked.

"That I killed Flemeth. The grimoire is the 'proof' of her death," Everard muttered. "Except she clearly didn't want me leaving without a wound or two, so she attacked me as I left."

"I still think you're lying," Paxton remarked.

"Must you be so skeptical of me?" Everard queried, getting back up on his feet. "Now that I've told you what happened, I think you should avow your promise to take me back to Redcliffe."

"I still think you should—" Jowan began.

"No," Paxton interjected. "Don't try to make him stay. None of us even want him here."

"Try not to speak for everyone, would you?" An elf remarked, stepping forward. She had wavy brown hair and inquisitive amber eyes.

Paxton glanced over at her and said, "Lyria, how nice of you to join in. Where have you been for the last six hours?"

"Watching from afar," Lyria shrugged. "This shem intrigues me," she added, gesturing to Everard. "In fact, I am quite curious to know what makes him so special that Flemeth would be willing to talk to him."

It was at this moment that Everard realized that Lyria was right to wonder that. And he began to try to think of reasons why Flemeth would save him and Alistair, why she would strike a deal with him…

He couldn't come up with anything except that Alistair was technically a prince. Even then, that seemed like a long shot since Flemeth didn't exactly seem like she would care about politics and, well, it gave no reason why she rescued Alistair _and_Everard from the Tower of Ishal. For some strange reason, it almost physically hurt to think about it all.

Naturally, Lyria was staring at him, clearly expecting a valid answer. [Yet she won't get one.]

"I'm sorry," he said. "I don't know what she sees in me. There's nothing…special about me that I can think of."

[Well, that's kind of a lie. But I do not need to be advertising that I have strange visions of another man,]he added to himself.

"I cannot bring myself to believe you," Lyria remarked.

"It doesn't really matter, does it?" Jowan declared. "To be honest…Everard attracts the strangest people sometimes."

"I doubt that the Witch of the Wilds has a crush—" Lyria began.

"Well, it depends on which one you mean," Everard interjected without even thinking.

Instantly, everyone was staring at him again. A long, uncomfortable silence followed his words. Everard chose to ignore the incredulous looks that he was getting.

"Jowan? Could we talk…in private for a moment?" He asked, picking the book back up.

"Yes. Of course," Jowan replied.

They walked away, leaving the others in their shocked silence.

"What is it?" Jowan asked once they were far enough away from the camp.

"I wanted to tell you that…I'm glad that you've become a healer," Everard answered. "You were always great at it and I had often wondered why you never truly focused on healing. And now that I know…you were jealous of me…which you shouldn't be. Not anymore, at least."

"What?" Jowan sounded honestly confused.

"Being a Grey Warden comes with its…negative side effects. For example, I more than likely won't live beyond the age of fifty," Everard replied.

"But…you had a choice, didn't you?" Jowan inquired.

"Not much of one," Everard responded. "It was either learning what Irving and Greagoir were going to do to me or going with Duncan and becoming a Grey Warden. As it stands, I'd rather have chanced it with Irving and Greagoir. At least then I wouldn't have had to worry about saving Thedas."

He smirked and added, "Oh, by the way, I'm a maleficar. Wonderful, isn't it? Maybe Anders will become one too. Then we can form a gang called the Blood Brothers. You know what else is funny? You and Anders are healers. But I'm not."

"Anders was always partial to fire magic, though," Jowan pointed out.

"And you always liked whatever I did," Everard muttered.

"I usually failed at replicating what you did," Jowan said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Like that time you set Sarah's bloomers on fire," Everard chuckled.

Jowan laughed and said, "Yes. Exactly. Disaster followed in my wake."

"Like when you froze your own legs together and fell down a flight of stairs," Everard responded.

"That hurt, by the way," Jowan replied.

They were both grinning like idiots now, the seriousness of earlier seemingly forgotten.

"I hope we'll see each other again," Everard declared, clapping a hand on Jowan's shoulder. "Thedas can't be _that_ big, can it?"

"You seem to pop up everywhere so, no, I guess it's not," Jowan agreed, gently removing Everard's hand. "That's my bad shoulder, by the way. I took an arrow there as I tried to slip by a bandit camp."

He did not miss the dark look that crept into Everard's blue eyes nor how his lips twitched slightly.

"I am rather sure that the archer is dead," Jowan assured him. "Now then, you should probably go. Paxton seems to want to be rid of you and…Flemeth's grimoire."

As they headed back towards the camp, Everard suddenly stopped and said, "You know, Jowan, you and Anders are the closest thing to family that I have. I-I meant what I said. The Blood Brothers thing…just maybe minus the blood magic part. Because that's what you two mean to me." A thought occurred to him right then. "Did you hear about what happened at the Circle Tower? That it was overrun with abominations and blood mages?"

"Ah, yes. Three of the mages here escaped at about that time," Jowan answered sheepishly.

"Oh. That's good," Everard replied, looking around.

"What are—" Jowan started to say.

But he was cut off as Everard suddenly hugged him. Hesitantly, Jowan returned the gesture. It was rare for Everard to openly display affection.

When Everard released him, Jowan immediately asked, "You were talking about Anders and then you brought up the Circle…are you trying to say th-that Anders is dead?"

"That is just the problem. I do not know," Everard muttered. "But I am preparing myself for the worst. After all, not much has gone right in my life recently."

He put a hand to his head and looked away.

"Are you—" Jowan began.

"I'm fine," Everard mumbled. "I think it's time for me to leave, though."

When they returned to the camp, Lyria and Paxton were clearly having a hushed argument. The others were casting dubious looks at them as their argument seemed to come to a head. Paxton threw his arms up into the air in a frustrated manner before he stalked away into the trees. Lyria had a smug look on her face as she watched him go. She beamed when she saw Everard and Jowan approach.

"That's not a good a sign," Jowan said quietly to Everard.

"I'm going to come with you and Paxton!" Lyria declared joyously.

"Why?" Everard asked. It was obvious that he wasn't too thrilled at the idea.

Lyria didn't miss a beat, "I want to go visit someone there, of course. Anyway, here's a bag so that you can carry the book easier and—"

"Surana!" Paxton suddenly barked. "Come help me get the bloody horses!"

"Calling me by my last name now? How childish," Lyria called back.

She gave Jowan and Everard a small smile before she went to where Paxton was.

"Horses?" Everard repeated, glancing at Jowan.

"You know what those are," Jowan retorted.

"But they usually pull carts or carriages, right?" Everard replied.

Jowan chuckled and said, "You can ride them as well."

Everard stared at him blankly.

"You will be alright," Jowan remarked, smiling wanly.

"But will you be?" Everard asked.

"Keeping you from bleeding out took a lot out of me," Jowan shrugged. "So, if I look weary, it's your fault."

"Was it that bad?" Everard inquired.

Before Jowan could say anything, though, Paxton shouted, "We need to leave now, boy."

"You could at least call him by his name," Lyria scolded.

She was sitting on the back of a black mare. Everard realized that Lyria was wearing trousers, which was a bit unusual for women to wear. He made no comment upon it, though. Instead, he watched as Paxton got on his own brown stallion and then he imitated the man's actions. Everard couldn't help but notice that his horse was female and smaller than the other two. His jaw clenched but he said nothing about the choice of horse. After all, as long as she got him to his destination, it didn't matter.

"Play nice while we're gone," Lyria told the others. "Jowan is in charge until we get back."

She winked at Jowan as she said that. Then, she let out a soft whistle and her horse started walking off. Paxton said something in another language to his horse and it followed after her. Everard was at a complete loss as to how to get his filly to move. But then, suddenly, his horse began trailing after the other two without him having to do anything. He was rather thankful for that.

OoOoOoOoO

Horseback riding became rather uncomfortable after awhile. Everard kept trying to change position but every time he tried to move, his horse would come to a complete stop. Gradually, he began falling behind the others. He gripped the reigns tighter and tried to ignore the pain blossoming in his thighs and backside.

"Come on," he murmured to the horse, "we need to stay with them or I will never hear the end of it."

As if the horse had understood him, she broke out into a trot and it took all of Everard's strength and willpower not to fall off or scream in pain. Once they caught up, the horse slowed down. Lyria glanced over at him.

"Problems?" She asked, smiling knowingly.

"No. None at all," Everard replied sarcastically. "I love horseback riding."

He became acutely aware of a pain in his side now. He hoped that his wound hadn't somehow opened up due to the sudden movement of the horse.

"We need to stop and let the horses rest," Lyria declared after a few more minutes of torture.

Once Everard, Lyria, and Paxton had dismounted, the horses wandered off to the side of the road to graze on the yellowing grass. Their riders sat down underneath a tree that had nearly lost all of its leaves.

"You never did tell us your name," Lyria remarked as she idly braided a few strands of her hair together.

"Oh, who cares?" Paxton grumbled. "We will probably never see him again after this."

Lyria outright ignored Paxton's comment and said, "Well? I'm sure your name is interesting."

"Not really," Everard muttered before he told her.

"Everard Amell? That fits nicely together, better than some names," Lyria responded, glancing at Paxton. "His full name is Paxton Orville Autenberry. Not the greatest name ever if you ask me."

"If you think that's bad, there was this apprentice at the Tower named Florian Phineas Horatio Aldebrant, Esquire. I used to call him Flora," Everard replied.

"Oh, that poor dear! Did his parents hate him or something?" Lyria said, trying not to laugh.

"No. Apparently, they loved him and that name was borne from their immeasurable love," Everard smirked. "And that is why I am glad that my mother did not love me enough to give me such an awful name like that or Paxton Orville Autenberry."

"I need to go check on the horses," Paxton suddenly said, standing up. "Before I kill one of you," he added.

Lyria snickered as he walked away.

"So, you were a Circle mage then?" Lyria queried, focusing her attention back to Everard.

"Yes. That is how I know Jowan," Everard answered. "What about you?"

"Ah, yes. I was a Circle mage before I escaped about seven years ago," Lyria said. "I was tired of living there, having my every move watched by those ghastly templars. My decision to leave was propelled forward when I witnessed a templar…" She trailed off and looked down at her hands. "The poor young man never had a chance."

Her voice was choked as she said it but then she shook her head and pressed on, "I managed to get my hands on my phylactery. I'd gone into the repository after getting permission from Irving. I just had to knock out my templar escort, smash my vial, and then I was free. I swam across Lake Calenhad, the idea coming from when that young man, Anders, escaped that way. I met Paxton not too long afterwards.

He's rough around the edges but he can be a softie at times. After all he took me, a fifteen-year-old elven mage, under his wing. He believed my story about why I left the Tower. Also, he revealed that he was an apostate living under the guise of a warrior. Ever since then, we've been together, helping the less fortunate and any mages that we've found who needed aide.

So, tell me, how did you escape? I already know that you played a part in Jowan's escape from both the Tower and Redcliffe. What I don't know is how you ended up…where you are."

"I…uh…I just…" Everard groaned at his sudden inability to lie and so he went for the truth, "I'm a Grey Warden. There was one visiting the Tower during Jowan's escape and the Warden conscripted me when he saw what was happening. He knew that I was talented and loyal to my friends. Those were good qualities, I guess. Ones that made me Warden material. I've been traveling around Ferelden, picking up…what you might call misfits here and there. Those misfits are my companions and they're my friends…sort of."

"So, you are the one who will defeat the Blight?" Lyria inquired in disbelief.

"Well, I am not alone. There is…one other Warden. He's supposed to help me," Everard answered.

"Can we move on now, ladies, or are you going to keep on gossiping?" Paxton demanded as he strolled back over to them.

"I wonder who he's talking to," Everard remarked.

"Yes, Paxton, who are you talking to? The horses?" Lyria smirked.

Paxton glared at them both and Lyria laughed as she got back up on her feet.

[Redcliffe awaits,] Everard thought resignedly. [Who knows what will happen once I get back considering how I left things...]

**Author****'****s****Note:**I would like to thank everyone reading, reviewing, favoriting, alerting, etc. I truly appreciate all of you. In fact, I apologize for the long wait for this chapter. Life got rather busy and hectic for me after I got chapter eleven out—illnesses and college can do that at times.

You might have also noticed that Lyria's last name is Surana. Yes, I did that on purpose. I'm actually going to try to include some of the other Origins (mainly my favorite ones) in this story. As for Paxton Orville Autenberry, I just wanted to add in a character of my own…one who definitely detests Everard in case that wasn't obvious. XD

I can't promise that the next chapter will be out within the week but I also can't say that it won't because, you never know, I might finish it before Christmas.

13


	13. Wily Ways

_Chapter Thirteen: Wily Ways_

"'Open the door for us,' they said, 'open the door.'

No one would, oh, no one would.

No one would without slamming it shut again.

They went to the chantry but the doors were barred, were barred.

They looked at each other and, oh, it was a glorious fire.

A glorious fire that consumed the town.

'Open the doors for us, for us,' they chanted.

And the doors blew open in that gentle breeze, that gentle breeze.

All that was—"

"Stop that awful singing!" Paxton snapped.

Everard shrugged and just hummed the rest of the song. Paxton's right eye twitched but he said nothing further.

"I wanted to hear the rest of it, though," Lyria declared.

"I don't," Paxton grumbled.

Everard smirked and said, "The rest of it just involves charred corpses, the discovery of the town by travelers, and a moral involving not slamming your doors in the faces of strangers." He left out the bit involving cannibalism—it had only been added to the song for effect anyway.

"Oh, that sounds morbidly interesting," Lyria replied. "Did you make it up yourself?"

"My friend, Anders, and I made it up," Everard responded. "When we escaped from the Tower together five years ago, no one would open their doors for us in this one town. So, we made up that song and sang it on our way to the next place."

Lyria laughed and said, "I knew it! Your name sounded familiar. I think I heard someone yelling your last name a lot. It may have been Greagoir. You were just a little boy then too! 'Adorable yet evil deep down.' That's how one of the enchanters described you once when I asked who Amell was."

"I was also Irving's apprentice," Everard remarked.

Lyria's eyes widened and rejoined, "No. You couldn't have been!"

"I was, though," Everard assured her. "I was ahead of the other children my age and he decided to make me his apprentice."

"How interesting," Lyria replied. "I was his apprentice before that."

"Hey, both of you, shut up for a moment. I think some—" Paxton began.

"Darkspawn," Everard cut in, grimacing. "There's only about seven of them…oh. Oh, no. There's an ogre."

Instantly, Everard dismounted his horse. Paxton and Lyria followed after him. The horses, seeming to sense the impending danger, took shelter in the nearby trees.

"What do we do?" Lyria asked, dropping her voice down to a whisper.

"I will go after the ogre," Everard whispered back. "I want the two of you to try to stay hidden while you take out the other seven darkspawn. Under no circumstances are either of you to try to kill the ogre. I don't want to see one of you get crushed to death."

A brief image of Bethany flashed in his mind and his fists clenched together.

"You just want the glory for yourself," Paxton mumbled.

"No," Everard rejoined. "I would just prefer that neither of you die a horrible death."

With that, Everard charged forward, wishing that he had his staff instead of just his dagger. A hurlock must have seen him going for the ogre because it suddenly appeared in front of him, only to be taken out by an arcane bolt from Paxton or Lyria. Everard would have to thank them later. He managed to dodge an attack from a different hurlock and then he drove his dagger into the creature's neck, almost severing its head.

And then the ground beneath his feet shook as he removed his dagger from the hurlock's neck. Everard looked up and saw that the ogre was charging towards him. He cried out and dove out of the way just in time. The ogre skidded to a halt and Everard immediately shot a fireball at it. But that wasn't enough, of course. In fact, the fireball only seemed to have angered the ogre.

It turned to seemingly glower at Everard. He noticed a rather large green glyph appear beneath the creature's feet. Before the ogre could retaliate, it stopped moving altogether. Everard did not waste this moment. With strength and agility that he was sure Lyria and Paxton didn't believe he possessed, Everard leapt onto the ogre's back, climbed up, and jammed his dagger into the creature's neck. This was the moment that the glyph vanished. The ogre roared and tried to grab at Everard. He twisted the dagger, staying well out of the ogre's reach. It roared in pain again and tried to shake its head, which only drove the dagger deeper into its flesh. Everard pulled the dagger out and stabbed its neck again while simultaneously casting a lightening chain spell. The spell coursed through the creature's whole body and Everard barely held onto his dagger as the ogre convulsed.

Finally, the ogre crashed to the ground, dead. Everard leapt off of it, still holding his dagger. It was now covered in the ogre's blood right to the hilt. Lyria and Paxton cautiously approached now.

"Impressive," Paxton remarked, letting out a whistle of appreciation.

Everard shook his head and said, "I need to clean my blade off. I heard a stream nearby…"

Lyria and Paxton instantly exchanged bemused looks. Everard didn't miss this.

"What?" He asked.

"You just took down an ogre," Lyria said lamely.

"Yes. I've done it before. It's nothing," Everard replied.

"You're a mage," Lyria continued. "You just killed it with a dagger and some magic."

"Give yourself some credit for helping, Lyria," Paxton remarked. "After all, you're the one who paralyzed it."

Everard just continued on his way to the stream, ignoring them for now. As he cleaned off his dagger, he thought about the first time he ever went up against an ogre.

It had been on the top floor of the Tower of Ishal. Seeing such a gruesome creature for the first time, Everard had frozen up for a moment. He had stared at the ogre, its image burning into his mind. When the ogre charged and went right for him, it was Alistair who had shoved Everard out of the way. He'd had just enough time to push Everard out of the ogre's path and get out of the way as well before it slammed into the wall.

"We have to kill it so we can light the beacon!" Alistair had ordered Everard and the two soldiers accompanying them.

It was one of the few times that Alistair had ever commanded anyone to do anything. But everyone had listened to him and the ogre was defeated. The beacon was lit…

"Are you alright?" Lyria suddenly asked from behind him. "You weren't injured at all during the fight?"

"Nothing I can feel now," Everard answered, finishing cleaning his blade. "We need to move on. I want to try to reach Redcliffe before tomorrow morning."

"Actually, we should get there soon enough. Four more hours at least," Lyria replied.

Everard sheathed his dagger and began washing off his face with a rag that Lyria handed him. He could feel the darkspawn blood drying there...

"You couldn't have tried to not get blood on yourself?" Paxton suddenly commented.

He was standing close by, watching Everard warily.

"Is there a reason why you're so suspicious of me?" Everard demanded, sheathing his now clean dagger.

"I don't trust anyone to be alone with Lyria," Paxton replied simply.

"I can take care of myself," Lyria rejoined. "I _am_ a grown woman." She flashed Paxton a smile, though, and added, "But I appreciate the concern."

She walked away, leaving Paxton and Everard alone.

"She's right, you know," Everard felt the need to say.

Paxton glowered at him and said, "Just hurry up so that we can move on."

OoOoOoOoO

They ran into no further complications the rest of the way to Redcliffe. The sun was setting when they crested the hill overlooking the town. The sunset painted the water in the distance a pale pink color and cast an eerie glow on the buildings.

Everard dismounted from his horse and quietly thanked the creature for tolerating the journey. Lyria watched as he did this, amusement glittering in her amber eyes. He then turned to them and said,

"It was nice to be around other mages. The ones I travel with…one is Wynne." He saw the spark of recognition on Lyria's face. "And the other is…interesting."

"Wynne is here?" Lyria asked.

"Yes. She's probably mothering everyone as we speak," Everard replied.

"Who's Wynne?" Paxton inquired, sounding irritated that he even had to ask first.

"An old woman who's adept at healing wounds," Everard answered. "Now then, I should go."

"Wait!" Lyria cried, practically leaping off her horse's back.

Paxton groaned and grumbled, "Why? Why me?"

Lyria embraced Everard, stepped back, and remarked, "I want you to find a man who is part of the Mage's Collective. He should be willing to talk to you. He can give you jobs that you will get paid for and—"

"Maker, woman, you're telling him about _that?_" Paxton interjected.

"I will see what they have to offer," Everard replied, ignoring Paxton. "Thank you."

Lyria shot Paxton a smug look before she responded, "You can do a lot of good for mage's all over Thedas."

"I will try my best. That's all I can promise," Everard shrugged.

"That is good enough for me," Lyria chirped happily. "I hope we'll see you again one day. Perhaps while we're in town even."

Everard cast a look over his shoulder at the castle and then he muttered, "Yes. Of course."

With that, he started down the hill and over the bridge that was technically the gateway into Redcliffe. He could hear the nearby windmill as he made his way towards the castle gates that was guarded by two armed men.

"Halt there a moment," one of them said. "What business do you have with Arl Eamon?"

"Oi, Heath, that's the other Grey Warden. The one that up and vanished two or so days ago," the other guard admonished. "He can go on through."

"Are you sure about that?" Heath asked.

"I recognize him and I never forget a face," the guard remarked.

"Go on then," Heath scoffed at Everard.

Everard just nodded and walked through the gates once they were opened. As he crossed the bridge leading up to the castle, he couldn't help but feel like he was about to be trapped again. Trapped like in the Circle Tower…

He realized that his heart was pounding in his chest just at that thought. He knew, of course, that there were other ways out of Redcliffe Castle. It was how he had been able to leave to find Flemeth without being detected.

Soon—almost too soon—he was standing before the double doors leading into the castle. The guards there cast him sideways glances. He sighed resignedly and pushed open one of the doors. No one was waiting on the other side of the door for him. Everard quickly shut the door and then made his way to the guest room he was staying in. He was able to successfully get there without anyone seeming to notice him.

When he walked into his room, he saw that the fireplace was lit. The door suddenly slammed shut behind him and he whirled around to face whoever it was, his dagger drawn.

"Tis only me," Morrigan remarked.

For a moment, it almost looked as though Flemeth were standing before him again. Everard took a step back from her, the dagger slipping from his grasp and clattering to the floor.

Morrigan looked genuinely surprised by this and she asked, "What is it? Why do you look frightened of me?"

"I-I'm sorry," Everard muttered. "You just…you have her eyes."

"And her nose as well if that buffoon, Alistair, is to be believed," Morrigan replied her surprise subsiding.

Everard sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. Morrigan picked up his dagger and placed it on the writing desk before she went to stand before him.

"Morri—" He started to say but he was cut off as she leaned down and kissed him.

He deepened their kiss and soon her arms were around his neck, her fingers lacing through his hair. Rather abruptly, she pulled away and stepped back from him.

"I take it you missed me?" Everard asked, smirking.

Morrigan actually flushed and looked away. He had never seen her look that way before.

"Morrigan," he said softly, "you know, I have…Flemeth's grimoire."

"Truly?" She queried, still refusing to look up.

Everard stood, reached into the bag, and pulled out the large tome.

"She's gone," he declared, handing it to her. "I slew her as you asked and got the grimoire."

Morrigan looked him right in the eyes and responded, "You know me well enough not to delve into the details. I never thought it would be possible for someone to…ever know me."

She reached out and caressed his cheek. His eyes fluttered shut at her touch.

"You have my thanks for retrieving this," she said as she felt his heart speed up. "It seems, though, that you may have other business to attend to."

Her hand fell back down by her side and his eyes opened.

"Morrigan, wait, please," Everard pleaded before she could reach the door. "I don't know what this means. Is this good bye? Is that it? Your mother's slain, you get her grimoire, and then you just…leave?"

"Do not be foolish," Morrigan scoffed. "You could never defeat the Blight without me."

With that said, she slipped out of the room. Everard found himself smiling at that comment. He probably couldn't defeat—

The door slammed open at that moment and Alistair strode in. He was wearing finery for once but he still had his sword at his side. The furious look on his face told Everard that nothing good could come of this confrontation.

"Alistair," he said, forcing a smile. "Do you need something?"

"Do I _need_ something?" Alistair repeated, incredulous. "You've been gone for _three _days!"

"I postponed our trip to Orzammar for three days," Everard shrugged.

He did not add that he hadn't expected to be back within that timeframe, though.

"I thought you were going to take that time to prepare for the trip," Alistair retorted. "I didn't think you would leave to go do Morrigan's bidding."

"It's not like I didn't get anything out of killing Flemeth," Everard rejoined.

"Oh? What do you get then?" Alistair demanded. "Did you ask her about your visions perhaps?"

Everard's face fell at that.

"I do not possibly know what you're referring to," he replied, his hands clenching and unclenching into fists.

"You do," Alistair insisted. "I know you do."

"If I do then that means you have invaded my privacy and read something you should not have," Everard responded, beginning to sound angry.

"Perhaps if you had just told me where you were going—" Alistair began.

"You would have wanted to accompany me and I did not need anyone else there," Everard interjected. "But that is beside the point. You read my letter to my mother."

"Your _dead_ mother," Alistair pointed out.

"Yes, well, yours isn't much better off than mine," Everard hissed.

However, it was clear by the look on Alistair's face that he hadn't meant to say what he had. He knew how cruel it was to remind someone that their mother was dead. The remark just slipped out and he considered apologizing. But then he remembered that it was Everard who should apologize.

"You've been keeping a lot of things from me…from the others," Alistair declared. "Who knows how many other secrets you have…"

"You would know about secrets, wouldn't you?" Everard replied. "Or do I need to remind you how long you waited before telling me that you're basically royalty?"

He crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to be cowed by Alistair despite the fact that he was almost elf-sized compared to the other man.

"But you…you knocked me out," Alistair remarked, clearly losing the fervor that he'd had before.

"I made sure that you didn't hit your head as you went down like a sack of potatoes," Everard retorted, mustering up a small smile.

Silence descended at that until Alistair's curiosity finally got the best of him and he inquired, "So, did you _really_ kill Flemeth?"

"Yes," Everard sighed. "I did."

"How?" Alistair asked. "I mean, she's the Witch of the Wilds! And don't try to convince me that you didn't feel the power coming off of her."

"Not now, Alistair," Everard muttered, putting a hand to his head. "I need some rest. These last few days been trying both mentally and physically and all of it is finally getting to me."

He truly looked quite weary.

"You'll have to tell me another time," Alistair responded.

Everard merely waved him away and said, "Tell no one to bother me unless they want a lightening bolt to the face."

Despite his earlier anger, Alistair chuckled at that as he shut the door on his way out. It wasn't until he heard the lock click into place that he realized that Everard hadn't apologized. In fact, Everard had turned the whole conversation around. Alistair mentally cursed himself for falling for the wiles of the mage. But there was nothing he could do about it now.

[He could talk himself out of anything, I'll bet,]Alistair thought as he wandered down the corridor.

He bumped into Leliana and Wynne as he rounded the corner. He quickly apologized to them but they both didn't seem to care much about being run into.

"Is it true?" Leliana inquired. "Is Everard back?"

Alistair just nodded and Wynne asked, "Was he injured?"

The warrior had to think about that. Everard had looked exhausted and perhaps slightly paler than usual. And then Alistair remembered that it appeared as though Everard had been slashed with something for his coat had been torn and bloodied. In his anger, though, he hadn't cared about any of that. He'd just wanted answers and all he'd received were rebuttals.

"I'm sure he's fine," Alistair finally said. "Besides, he told me to make sure that no one disturbs him unless they want to die."

"I can always just check when he's rested," Wynne conceded. "I just worry about him is all."

"Well, Alistair is correct, he should be fine," Zevran suddenly declared from behind Alistair, startling the warrior.

[When did he get there?]Alistair wondered, glancing at the elf.

Wynne's lips pursed together at the sight of Zevran. It was already clear that she did not approve of Everard's decision to bring his would-be assassin into their merry band of misfits. She especially disapproved of the elf's constant need to flirt with anything that moved. Alistair had to admit that he wasn't too thrilled at Zevran's presence either. In fact, it seemed that only Leliana, Everard, and Barkley truly liked the elf.

"Yes, well, I suppose we should leave him be then," Leliana remarked, seeming to ignore the sudden tension in the air.

With that, they went their separate ways. However, Zevran doubled back to keep vigil at Everard's door. After all, it would get rather messy if Everard truly did intend to murder anyone that bothered him.

**Author's Note: **I would like to thank everyone reading, reviewing, alerting, favoriting, etc. It really means a lot to me!

The song that Everard sings in the beginning is, in fact, one that I made up myself. I woke up one morning with it going around in my head and I decided that it would be the perfect thing to annoy Paxton with. Also, I have changed the rating to M for a couple of reasons.


	14. Bright Blue Eyes

_Chapter Fourteen: Bright Blue Eyes_

"And the doors blew open in that gentle breeze, that gentle breeze

All that was left were the charred corpses, those charred corpses

'Perfect for eating,' they said. 'Absolutely perfect.'

And they feasted, oh, they feasted like royalty…"

"I must ask it to cease that noise. While it has a nice voice, it can become grating at times," Shale interrupted.

Everard smirked but stopped singing.

"That's a terrible song!" Leliana exclaimed. "Wherever did you hear such a horrid thing?"

"My friend and I made it up one day," Everard replied simply.

"How interesting," Zevran responded. "I must meet this friend and congratulate them on helping you think up such a deliciously awful ballad."

"The Painted Elf likes such things?" Shale asked.

"Ah, yes. The gruesome songs are the best, no?" Zevran smirked.

Shale scoffed and said, "Perhaps."

They had left for Orzammar the day after Everard returned from his venture into the Wilds. Alistair had been rather unhappy to learn that he was being left behind. The others didn't seem to mind but Wynne seemed a bit worried that they wouldn't have a healer—namely her—with them.

"What if one of you gets hurt?" She'd asked.

"I've been practicing my healing magic," was the answer Everard gave her.

That had placated the old woman well enough and they'd set off. Now it was day three of their journey to Orzammar. They could see the mountains looming up ahead but it never seemed like they were close enough to start climbing. Not that they would necessarily have to climb up the mountains. If Everard's map was correct, there was a path leading up to the Orzammar gates.

"Will the horses make it up there?" Leliana wondered out loud.

"No. We'll have to leave them," Everard replied.

It had been a great idea to ride horses to Orzammar. Luckily, Shale didn't need one and she—Everard sure the golem had been a woman at one point—was able to keep up rather well.

"Leave them?" Leliana repeated.

"You know, find a stable or something," Everard clarified.

If he was honest, he would've just said that he'd never thought that far ahead because he'd come up with the plan to ride horseback at the last minute. He still sometimes found himself wondering how he ended up the leader. Of course, being the leader did have advantages…

"Let's stop for today," he announced once they had drawn closer to the mountains.

Setting up camp was fairly easy. Shale did not need a tent since golems apparently didn't sleep. Everard and Zevran had agreed that it would be easier if they shared a tent, although the way Zevran had said that made it sound like he was going to ravish Everard sometime in the night. Leliana, of course, got her own tent. It wasn't that she couldn't deign to sleep in a tent with the elf and the mage. She just didn't think it was proper for two men and a woman to share a tent. And Zevran hadn't seemed as put-out by that as Everard thought he'd be.

By the time that night fell, Everard was already feeling sleepy. They were gathered around the fire while Shale kept watch. He excused himself from Leliana and Zevran's conversation involving Antivan leather and went to the tent. He removed his coat, boots, belt, and leather vest. He carefully put his new staff—a dragonbone one given to him by the man from the Mage's Collective—by his bedroll before he crawled in. Zevran chose this moment to pop into the tent.

"How disappointing," Zevran said mock-serious. "I thought this would be the night I would ravish you."

"Try again another day," Everard mumbled as he curled up in his bedroll.

"Perhaps you would sleep better if—" Zevran began.

"I'm fine," Everard muttered sleepily.

He barely heard Zevran as he said, "With your tossing and turning, it certainly does not seem that way."

Everard chose to ignore this as he felt himself drift off.

OoOoOoOoO

When Everard opened his eyes, he found that he was definitely not in the tent anymore. He was standing in front of the auburn-haired young man again. The man seemed to be ignoring him, though, as he stared up at the stars.

But after only a moment, he said, "So, the shadow returns."

The young man met Everard's eyes and, for a brief moment, Everard saw himself reflected in them. He truly did just look like a shadow except his eyes were fully visible.

"I've been meaning to tell you what nice eyes you have," he added, standing up.

He tilted his head to one side, reminding Everard vaguely of a bird.

"You don't talk much, do you?" The young man asked.

Flemeth's words came to mind right then and Everard replied, "I haven't had much cause to speak."

"Ah, so you _are_ a man," the auburn-haired man remarked. "I can tell because no woman has a voice quite like that."

"Like what?" Everard inquired, wondering if he should feel affronted.

"Soft yet with violent undertones. Perhaps like black velvet under the hot sun?" The man replied. "Uh…I was never much of a poet."

"That much is rather obvious," Everard responded, smiling. "I am curious, though, as to why you're out here and not sleeping."

"Sleep?" The man snorted. "What is this 'sleep' you speak of?"

He chuckled softly and added, "I _do_ sleep. But tonight is different. I just wasn't able to fall asleep. So, I came up here to the roof."

"The roof?" Everard repeated.

He looked around and realized that they were actually standing on the flat roof of a building. He could make out other structures around them as well. Blocks upon blocks of nearly identical buildings…

"Where is this?" Everard asked, returning his attention to the other man.

"Kirkwall," the young man answered simply. "In the Lowtown area, which is not as bad as Darktown but still not a place you'd want to wander around at this time of night."

As he listened to the man, Everard noticed the scar on his face. It started just below his left eye, went straight upwards to the bridge of his nose, and stopped short just above his right eyebrow.

"How did you get that?" Everard found himself inquiring before he could stop himself.

"The scar? Well, let's just say that you don't want to anger someone wielding a dagger, especially if that person is your younger brother who seems to think that he's being forced to live in your shadow," the young man explained nonchalantly. "Mother was angrier than I've ever seen her when he did this to me. It happened only about eight months ago too. I never thought I'd see the day when Carver—that's my brother—actually landed a hit on me. At least it wasn't his broadsword that I got to the face. _That_ would have hurt a lot more. Thankfully, Bethany was there to heal me."

The way that he spoke made it sound like he thought that everything was a joke of some sort. Everard could see how that could be frustrating to listen to all of the time.

"Bethany was your sister, I take it?" Everard asked just to confirm his suspicions.

The young man nodded sadly and said, "She was killed by—"

"An ogre," Everard finished for him.

"Well, someone certainly knows more than I thought," the young man remarked, that sudden sadness fading.

"It was the first…vision that I had. That's what these are to me…visions. It's the only logical explanation since we aren't in the Fade," Everard explained. "I did meet Bethany before this started. It was in Lothering. I bumped into her and—"

"That was you?" The young man interrupted. "Do you know how long she went on about the Grey Warden she met and how young he was? She wouldn't stop talking about it when we left Lothering. She said that he reminded her of me. I don't know, though. Do you see any sort of resemblance between us?"

Everard gazed at the young man for a moment before he said, "There's enough of one that I can see why she would think I reminded her of you. We have some of the same…features. Your hair is a darker red than mine, though, and your eyes are grey…with bits of blue."

"It would be funny if it turned out we were related somehow," the young man smirked.

Everard nodded in agreement.

"Hawke!" A voice suddenly called from below. "What are you doing up there?"

The auburn-haired man sighed and called back, "Yes, Wilhelm, wake up everyone in sight and alert gangs to my whereabouts. Because that's _always_ a good thing to do."

"Your name is Hawke?" Everard asked quietly.

"No, my last name is," Hawke said. "Also, you appear to be fading," he added.

Before Everard could reply, he was jolted awake by Zevran shouting something in another language. He instantly sat up and looked around wildly but he did not see Zevran.

"How can he sleep through this?" Leliana suddenly demanded.

Everard then heard a clashing sound of metal on metal. He grabbed his staff and got out of the tent only to find that Shale had killed the last of their attackers.

"Ah, now our fearless leader decides to join the fray," Zevran remarked upon seeing him.

But the elf's face fell slightly as Everard suddenly leaned on his staff. "What is wrong?" Leliana asked, concerned.

"I…I just don't feel quite right yet," Everard muttered. "Perhaps…a bit light-headed…"

However, his light-headedness soon passed and he was finally able to ask, "What happened here?"

"Bandits," Zevran shrugged, handing him a skin of water. "Nothing we could not handle."

Everard drank most of the water before he said, "I apologize for being rather useless."

"We could not wake you up," Leliana commented.

"I must have been having a nice dream," Everard lied easily. "Not that I remember it at all."

Leliana's eyes narrowed at that but she said nothing to refute his claim.

"Since we're awake and there are dead bodies scattered everywhere, I suppose we should get an early start on our journey to Orzammar," Everard declared. "Unless you want to continue camping with corpses rotting close by."

OoOoOoOoO

As it turned out, there was a stable at the bottom of the Frostback Mountains. Everard charmed the stable owner into giving them a discount—instead of thirty sovereigns per week, he bartered it down to eighteen sovereigns—and he paid the smaller amount with a rather disarming smile.

"You are quite persuasive and charismatic sometimes," Zevran commented as they left the stables.

"I thought I was always like that," Everard smirked. "I mean, I've been able to get out of all sorts of things by being my usual charming self."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Leliana scowl for a moment. He could sense that she wanted to talk to him alone and he had a good guess what she wanted to speak about. She was just going to have to wait another day, though.

As they began going up the path towards Orzammar, Everard started humming softly. If Morrigan or anyone had been there, they probably would have made him stop right there. As it was, Leliana didn't usually mind his singing, Shale only cared when it went on too long, and Zevran appeared to have no opinion. Everard figured that Zevran secretly enjoyed his singing or else the elven assassin probably would have slit his throat by now. As for the others, Alistair was often horrified by what Everard sang, Wynne and Sten strongly disapproved—granted, Sten was more silent about it—and Morrigan clearly loathed his singing yet she tolerated it for some reason.

Everard hummed a bit more before he began singing,

"There once was a templar named Hayder

Whom hailed from Jader

He had a wife who was quite skilled

So much so that she was part of a lovely guild

Made up of courtesans

And Orlesians.

Poor Hayder was unaware of her work

Since she only ever cooked him pork

Which was never—"

"That is a horrible euphemism," Leliana commented.

"Who said it was one?" Everard smirked, causing Leliana to flush. "Actually, you were right," he added. "But blame the drunken elf who made it up. And that reminds me…"

Leliana let out a long-suffering sigh.

"What?" Everard said innocently. "I thought you enjoyed singing."

"The things you sing, though," Leliana muttered, shaking her head.

Everard chuckled before he went on ahead of everyone.

OoOoOoOoO

Getting randomly attacked by people who somehow knew that he was a Grey Warden was becoming an almost everyday occurrence. Everard had no idea how they knew he was a Grey Warden, though. Leliana suggested that perhaps a sketch of him and Alistair had been passed around. That seemed likely.

But the fact that there was a small group waiting for them at the top of the path leading to the gates of Orzammar was just…odd. Everard wondered how they knew he and his companions would go to Orzammar. The only ones—outside of Everard's companions—who knew about their plans were Eamon and Teagan. Everard knew Teagan wouldn't betray them but Eamon…perhaps since Alistair wasn't with them, it was a possibility that he'd orchestrated it. After all, Eamon didn't _need_ Everard for his plans. He could easily bully Alistair into becoming the king without Everard there to agree or disagree.

At least the attackers were fairly easy to dispatch, especially with Shale around. Except they weren't the only ones waiting.

Once they reached the gates, Everard engaged in an interesting word game with Loghain's messenger. It was far more amusing than fighting would have been. Loghain's men ran away with their tails between their legs. Of course, Everard and his companions were allowed through the gates. The dwarves couldn't care less about human politics and, well, Everard was a Grey Warden. That title literally seemed to open doors.

Everard's first thoughts upon entering those gates was that it was _very_ warm, uncomfortably so. He and his companions—except for Shale, of course—shed their cloaks and Everard also removed his jacket. Apparently, the cold didn't affect Zevran and Leliana nearly as much as it did him.

"I wonder if there are any taverns here," Everard muttered as they headed for another gate that actually led into the city.

"I doubt Orzammar gets many visitors," Zevran pointed out.

"Ah, yes. That's true. Their whole caste system and such," Everard said.

"You know about their caste system?" Leliana inquired, sounding surprised.

"I read about it before we came here. I figured it would be best to know some more about the places we're visiting," Everard answered. "Dwarves," he added, "are rather…peculiar about how things should go. And things aren't always—"

But he was cut off as they entered the actual city of Orzammar. A heated argument was taking place between two groups of armed dwarves. One dwarf was trying to keep order but he was beaten down before the groups dispersed.

Ignoring the lava pools and the heat and everything else, Everard rushed to the dwarf's side just as he was standing again. The dwarf seemed both surprised and irritated by his presence. His armor also seemed to have taken the brunt of the damage from the battleaxe.

"What was all of that about?" Everard inquired. "Oh. Does this have to do with your king's death?"

Naturally, it did. King Endrin's son, Bhelen, believed that he should be the next ruler. However, Lord Harrowmont said that Endrin did _not _want Bhelen declared king. Rather, he'd passed that duty along to Harrowmont. Needless to say, Bhelen didn't believe that and so they now had two opposing forces vying for the crown. And the Assembly couldn't come to an agreement. _Of course._

OoOoOoOoO

"Oh, Maker," Everard groaned a few hours later while they were at Tapster's Tavern. "I have to fix this, don't I? Why is it always me?"

"Ah, my friend, but you do such a wonderful job of fixing things," Zevran remarked.

"If the dwarves wouldn't be such vital allies…I'd leave now," Everard muttered.

"Are you going to write to Alistair to let him know we'll be gone longer than intended?" Leliana inquired.

"Perhaps," he answered. "More than likely, I'll have to."

He suddenly stood up from their table and went down to the bar. He spotted a bartender and asked her what the best drink they had was. At the words "honey mead," Everard's eyes practically lit up. He returned to the table bearing four mugs of the drink. He gave one to Zevran and the other to Leliana.

"Who's the fourth one for?" Leliana asked, eying the other mug suspiciously.

"It's mine. I'd rather be half-drunk for our meeting with Bhelen," Everard said. "You know, I'm still unsure about the decision of helping Bhelen. From what I've heard about him, he isn't exactly…the best dwarf in Orzammar. But Harrowmont reminds me of Eamon. Also, I find this whole business of 'but Endrin appointed me as the next ruler' thing somewhat …fishy."

"But what if Bhelen truly killed his brother, Trian, and framed the other for it?" Leliana queried.

"I've been asking around about Trian. What I gathered is that he was an arse that believed the middle brother, Heran, was going to end up being king instead of him. In fact, Trian may have been plotting to murder Heran," Everard responded. "Really, it was just a whole thing that ended with Trian dead and Heran being sent to the Deep Roads to die, which I find ridiculous. The beloved prince's word against a squirrelly dwarf and another dwarf who seemed…reluctant to implicate Heran in his brother's death? And everyone believes the two dwarves over royalty? I don't understand that logic."

"We've been here less than four hours and you already know so much," Leliana said, smiling and shaking her head.

"It's always best to know quite a bit about the dragon before you go into its lair," Everard shrugged.

He took a long dreg of his mead and then added, "Just so we're clear, I despise politics."

"I would never have guessed," Zevran remarked.

Everard raised his eyebrows and inquired, "What do you mean?"

"As Leliana said, we have been here less than four hours and yet you have already decided who to make king," Zevran answered.

"That just means that I want to leave as soon as possible," Everard responded. "And that I'm resourceful. That is always a good quality have, no?"

Leliana rolled her eyes and said, "Just try not to rush things too much. I do not wish to be driven out of Orzammar because you insulted someone you should not have."

"We would never be driven out," Everard rejoined. "Grey Wardens hold far too much influence over everyone. Thus, we—"

A loud shout from a corner of the tavern cut Everard off. He glanced around and spotted a nervous looking dwarf. The moment their eyes met, the dwarf ran over, shouted something unintelligible, and threw a scrap of parchment at Everard. The dwarf then rushed out like he had a rabid wolf chasing him. Everard just sat there in shock for a moment before he picked up the parchment and read it.

"What is it?" Leliana asked.

"I have…no idea. But I'll hold onto it. Maybe we can find the dwarf and ask him about it later," Everard muttered. "Now then, where was I?"

OoOoOoOoO

Shortly after the strange incident in Tapster's Tavern, the small group headed for the doors leading up to where the nobility lived, the Diamond Quarter. They were almost there when a young red-headed dwarf approached them. She had a determined gleam in her eyes as she planted herself between Everard and the doors.

"You look like you're not from around here," she remarked conspiratorially.

Everard smirked and said, "Yes, you could say that."

"Oh, wonderful!" The dwarf exclaimed. "I've been trying forever to find someone who really knows the surface world. I don't suppose you've heard of something called the Circle?"

"Er…yes?" Everard replied. "I may have lived there for awhile…"

The dwarf's grey eyes seemed to light up at that.

"Oh! It's an honor to meet you!" The dwarf responded. "I've never met an actual mage. Is it true you can manipulate nature's forces with your mind? Like you were born with lyrium in your veins?"

[Oh, the Maker has an awful sense of humor,]Everard thought, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Yes, yes. I can manipulate nature's forces and all of that," he answered. "So, do you have any questions or something?"

"I've been trying to reach someone at the Circle for years. I've sent missives with every caravan but I never get a reply. I want to know if they would accept me for study," the dwarf declared.

Everard gave her a dumbfounded look.

"Study?" He repeated. "But you're a dwarf. Dwarves don't possess magic."

"I know that no dwarf can do magic," she rejoined. "But that doesn't mean I can't study it. It would be a valuable exchange. Orzammar would learn of one of the great natural forces of the surface. And the Circle gains direct access to our knowledge of lyrium smithing."

"I don't know if you'd like the Circle much," Everard replied.

"You never know," the dwarf shrugged.

"Fine," Everard sighed, giving in. "As long as I get something for delivering the message to the First Enchanter…"

"Everard!" Leliana hissed.

"I'm not asking for much, of course," he quickly added, casting a glare at the rogue.

"No problem! I can give you a rune or some lyrium," The dwarf agreed. "My name is Dagna, daughter of Janar of the Smith Caste. Tell them I've already begun reading the Tevinter Impirium's "Fortikum Kadab," and it's just fascinating! Did you know the Imperial Magister Lords once had genealogies of every human family known to produce a mage child?" She took a deep breath before continuing excitedly, "Oh, I'll go pack my bags right now! I'll be waiting by my father's shop!"

With that said, she took off. Everard watched her hurry away and he sighed resignedly.

"At least she willingly wants to go there," he muttered.

But then a thought struck him. He instructed the others to wait for him and then he rushed after the dwarf. When he found her again, he saw that she was fidgeting outside of a shop.

"Oh! Hello again!" Dagna greeted, smiling.

"About the payment for me delivering your message," Everard said, getting straight to the point. "I actually require only one thing. And…it would be nice to know it now rather than later."

She just stared at him expectantly.

"I promise you, I will deliver your message even after you do this for me. You seem excited to go to the Circle and, well, it's probably a bit better there than here. Or it would be for you," Everard continued. "Granted, I probably won't be able to deliver your message until after I figure out how to win Bhelen or whomever the thrown…"

She continued to just stare at him.

"You mentioned that the Tevinter Magister Lords kept genealogies of every human family known to produce a mage child," Everard resumed, wishing it wasn't so hard to ask this question. "Could you tell me…if the name Amell was—"

"Amell?" Dagna repeated, standing straighter. "I remember reading about the Amells somewhere! They've had more mage children than nearly any other family. In fact, the Amells were nobility in Kirkwall and there's actually a whole book that talks about them."

"Yes. I am aware that…we were nobility," Everard replied.

Dagna suddenly gasped and said, "Do you mean that _you're_ an Amell?"

Everard nodded and Dagna beamed.

"I'll be right back!" She cried before running into the shop.

As he waited, Everard took in his surroundings. He hadn't paid much attention to Orzammar until then. He was rather shocked that the city appeared to be built over a massive magma lake, which was a bit disconcerting. He figured that the dwarves probably thought it was practical.

Before he could ponder that any further, though, Dagna reappeared. She was practically skipping as she made her way back towards him.

"Here you go!" Dagna said, thrusting a good-sized book into his hands. "This is the book that talks all about the Amell family. Someone even made a family tree. The oddest part about this book, though, is that it's actually full of fairly recent information…"

"Why are you giving it to me?" Everard inquired.

"An Amell deserves this book more than I do," Dagna answered simply.

"Thank you," Everard said. "Just one more thing before I go…do you realize that leaving Orzammar means that you will forsake your family claims and be considered casteless should you ever wish to return?"

"Yes. I know," Dagna sighed. "But I have no reservations about that. I _want_ to study magic so much and—"

"Alright, alright," Everard interjected. "I just wanted to double-check."

He glanced down at the book and then back up at her.

"As soon as we are done here, I promise you that we will go straight to the Circle Tower," he vowed to her.

She nodded in understanding and Everard flashed her a quick smile before heading back to his companions.

OoOoOoOoO

"Where did you go?" Leliana inquired when he returned.

"I just had to…do something," Everard answered, purposefully being ambiguous. He didn't think anyone needed to know about his conversation with Dagna. Not even his friends.

Leliana opened her mouth to reply but then she closed her mouth and shook her head. Everard gave her a small smile before he turned to the doors.

"If you would do the honors, Shale," Everard said. "Well, if you want."

"I do not mind," Shale responded, pushing the wide doors open.

Everard wondered if this was a sign that the golem was warming up to him.

[Let's get this over with now,]he thought as they entered the Diamond Quarter once again. [It's time to see…what was his name again? Vartag Gavorn. He's supposed to be near the doors to the Assembly. I wonder…why do dwarves like doors so much? Is it because dwarves and doors sort of rhyme?]

Of course, Vartag Gavorn was exactly where Everard had been told he'd be. He didn't know how he'd missed the dwarf earlier but it didn't matter. They'd found him and now it was time to figure out how in the world Everard was to earn Bhelen's trust.

Naturally, that was about the time that things got even more annoying and complicated.

**Author's Note: **Goodness! This chapter certainly took a long time to get out, didn't it? Granted, I've been rather busy lately with mostly college stuff.

First off, I was unsure if I should capitalize 'caste' except when referring to specific castes (like the Smith Caste). I had the same problem with 'surface' as well except I'm more sure that it shouldn't be capitalized since Everard (and my Hawke) get called 'surfacers' quite a bit and it's never capitalized. Secondly, I adore Dagna. At first, she seemed a bit annoying but then she just sort of grew on me. Her enthusiasm just endeared her to me. Thirdly, on a random note, the title of this chapter came from the song "No Light, Not Light" by Florence and the Machine.

Now then, the bit about the book on the Amell family is something I threw in there after reading—and rereading—the codex entry in Dragon Age II regarding the Amells. That and I figured that the Tevinters (or someone) still kept records on the human families that had mage children. I imagined that the Amells had more mages in the family than the codex entry let on. In fact, I figured that magic hadn't surfaced within the last two generations or so—as far as they knew—and that, when Revka had her first child, that was why everyone was so shocked. Also, if I remember correctly, Leandra mentions that magic has run in their family for generations and her marrying Malcolm just added more magic to their bloodline. Of course, I also want Everard to have a way of figuring out if he truly does have a sibling or not. But there'll be more on the book later.

Anyway, thank you for those who have read, reviewed, alerted, favorited, etc.


	15. Anything for the Crown

_Chapter Fifteen: Anything for the Crown_

In order to even have an audience with Bhelen, Everard had to earn the prince's trust. He could see how that made sense. Why trust someone that you don't know, especially an outsider? His status as a Grey Warden meant nothing if Bhelen didn't know if he could trust him.

The tests of trust, though, were ridiculous. First off, Everard had to blackmail a few of Lord Harrowmont's family members to get them to back out of the Proving so that Bhelen's side would win by default. Then, he had to trick Lord Helmi and Lord Dace into thinking that Harrowmont was scamming them. It was all a lie, of course. The papers were forgeries and, while that didn't sit too well with Everard, he quickly got over that. He nearly gave up, though, when he found out that Lord Dace was in the Deep Roads and was the only one who could change how his family voted in the Assembly. So, he had to find Lord Dace, save the dwarf and his men, and then the whole task was over and done with.

And that was what it took to get an audience with Prince Bhelen. However, Everard was the only one allowed to go to the prince's quarters. His companions had to wait outside of the palace for him. Everard was also made to relinquish his staff and dagger.

Vartag Gavorn was his guide to Bhelen's room. Everard's fingers itched as they walked through a corridor leading to the palace suites. While he wasn't necessarily unarmed, it still felt odd to be without his staff or dagger. That and everything in the palace was so expensive looking. He couldn't help but eye a small golden statue just sitting out in the open on a stone table.

"Here we are, ser mage," Vartag remarked, stopping in front of an elaborately carved door.

The dwarf's voice made Everard think of grease for some reason.

"You do know that I'm a Grey Warden, right?" Everard responded.

Vartag merely smirked and Everard just shook his head. He walked through the indicted door and Vartag followed him inside. Everard had a growing suspicion that something was going to go wrong. The fact that he was alone and basically unarmed practically screamed, "Trap!"

He doubted that Bhelen would be stupid enough to try to trap a Grey Warden unless he truly believed that Everard was lying about that. Everard didn't know of many people who went around pretending to be Wardens, though.

"Welcome to Orzammar, Warden," a male voice suddenly said, making him turn to his left.

Everard figured the dwarf now standing a couple of feet in front of him was Bhelen. He only thought this because the dwarf was not only flanked by several archers but he also wore expensive looking armor. The dwarf also had a superior sort of air about him that a lot of nobles—human and dwarven—seemed to have.

"You must be Bhelen," Everard replied coolly.

"And you're supposedly a Grey Warden," Bhelen scoffed.

"I do not know of many people who go around pretending to be Wardens. Especially not now since we've been wrongfully blamed for the causing our king's death," Everard retorted.

Bhelen definitely noticed how Everard put extra emphasis on 'wrongfully blamed.'

"I am impressed, Warden. Few outsiders grasp Orzammar's rather...convoluted politics so quickly," Bhelen remarked, smirking.

"Yes, well, it's best to know a bit about politics before you get involved with it," Everard rejoined. "You know what, though? I can tell that you are a man who will go through any means necessary to become king. Killing your brother, framing the other, lying to your fellow nobles, and blackmailing your opponent's family. One might wonder what else you have up your sleeve."

Bhelen's eyes narrowed at that. Clearly the dwarf hadn't expected Everard to relay his offenses.

"You dare accuse—" One of the archers began.

"I state mere facts," Everard interjected, glancing over at the archer. "Besides, I helped him with the lying and blackmail. It seems that Bhelen mainly leaves the dirty work to others."

Bhelen scowled and said, "You must be one of Harrowmont's spies. There is no other—"

"I would not go through all of this trouble to earn your trust if I was working with Harrowmont. While he's looking a better choice than you are right now, I don't think I could stand to work with a man like that," Everard interrupted. "That and you have a few redeeming qualities that he lacks. You want to help the casteless with their lot in life, not continue to make their lives miserable. You also want to trade more with the surface. Those are probably reasons why you're so unpopular. Well, other than the fact that you killed off your own brothers. But all's fair in politics, it seems."

"You act like none of your kings have killed their siblings to gain the throne."

"I just see no point in doing such a thing. What happens when you die? Another fight for the crown begins. It's a process that will repeat continuously all because you couldn't stand to have one of your brothers vie for the crown. Of course, Trian was going to murder Heran anyway. But you know that already. So, you kill Trian to protect your brother and then…betray Heran later on? You do know that Heran shared much of the same values as you do, right?"

"He may have but he would not have made a good enough ruler."

"You could have made a deal and ruled alongside him."

"It is not that simple. Perhaps you do not have—"

"It _is_ that simple! You just never tried."

Bhelen just shook his head and remarked, "Are you going to continue lecturing me or are you going to help me?"

"I am not lecturing you," Everard rejoined. "I'm just pointing out the huge hole in your plans. But I will stop now so that I can get this all over with and leave this wretched place."

OoOoOoOoO

Two hours later, Everard finally emerged from the palace. Zevran and Leliana seemed relieved to see him in one piece.

"What took so long?" Leliana asked.

"Bhelen didn't trust me as much as I thought he would," Everard answered. "But I eventually convinced him and now we have a new task to do."

"Oh? What might that be?" Zevran inquired.

"Eliminating Jarvia, the leader of the Carta," Everard replied. "We have to find her hide-out and wipe them all out. Luckily, I know of a dwarf in Dust Town that can help us figure out where she and her men are hiding."

OoOoOoOoO

"Well, if it isn't my overly tall but generous visitor," the dirty dwarf greeted when she spotted Everard. She seemed to have a hard time getting to her feet but she managed to on her own.

"Nadezda," Everard said, smiling. "You're looking as lovely as you did six hours ago."

She rolled her eyes and asked, "So, what can I do for you this time?"

"I know you have not been in the Carta for awhile but…do you happen to know where their hide-out is?" Everard queried, getting straight to the point.

"That information will definitely cost you," Nadezda responded.

"Would ten silvers suffice?" Everard replied.

Nadezda nodded. She proceeded to tell Everard where the door to the hide-out was, how to unlock it, and how to obtain a token key to unlock it. She even mentioned that some of Jarvia's thugs were inside of a nearby house. Everard gave her the promised silver coins and she thanked him once more.

"Are you sure it is wise to trust her?" Zevran asked once they were out of earshot from her.

"She is crippled and could not go too far should she decide to betray me despite my generosity," Everard said simply.

Zevran couldn't help but smile slightly at that. The Warden was definitely different from what he had expected.

Upon entering the house Nadezda indicated, Everard and his companions found that she'd been telling the truth.

This was made even more obvious when one of the dwarves said, "Jarvia said you were looking for trouble. Congratulations, you found it."

Jarvia's thugs quickly regretted their decision to try to fight them.

"Here's the token that we need," Everard said after they'd looted the bodies. "It looks sort of like a finger bone. I wonder what unlucky sot they took this from."

He didn't actually care but he figured he might as well say it. Leliana gave him a sidelong glance before she went into the back room.

"We need to be on our way now," Everard declared after a few more minutes. "The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can leave."

Although, he doubted that Bhelen would become king just because the Carta was gone.

OoOoOoOoO

"So, Bhelen finally realized his throne means nothing if he can't hold it, yet he still doesn't bother to send his own men," the female dwarf remarked the moment that Everard stepped through what he hoped was the door that led to Jarvia.

"Well, you picked the wrong side, stranger," the dwarf continued. "It doesn't matter who's king as long as there's a queen!"

Everard decided that she was Jarvia and so he replied, "You're awfully cocky for someone whose entire carta is dead."

The sour look that crossed over the dwarf's face confirmed Everard's suspicions of who she was.

"You'll pay for their deaths a hundred times over," she snarled. "Kill them!" She ordered her men. "But leave the mouthy one alive: I have plans for him."

_Well, that sounds ominous. Too bad she'll never get to carry out those plans, _Everard thought, smirking.

Their numbers may have been many but Jarvia's men were as cocky as their leader. This made them a bit easier to take out. Most of them seemed to go straight for Leliana, which gave Zevran the advantage of sneaking up behind them and taking them out. As expected, Shale was a great help. The golem crushed dwarves like the birds she so despised. However, Jarvia went straight for Everard. The others were obviously preoccupied but Everard figured he could take the Carta's leader.

"You're a mage," Jarvia commented after she had managed to dodge the arcane bolt Everard shot at her.

He threw up a sheet of ice between them and stepped back. He cried out when he realized that he'd stepped right onto a claw trap. Jarvia had vanished and Everard knew that he needed to move. But he couldn't, so he decided that there was one thing left to do. He cast a grease spell that extended out around him. He got his leg free of the trap but he ended up slipping on his own spell. He could see Jarvia now, though, since she too had fallen.

Just a small flame appeared at the end of his index finger. Jarvia realized what he was about to do a little too late. Concentrating, Everard let the flame catch the grease on fire. But he managed to control it so that it wouldn't consume him as well as Jarvia.

She screamed as she caught on fire. Everard didn't let that get to him for he absolutely had to focus on only the flames. He ignored the pain radiating through his leg. He ignored the rest of the fighting going on around him.

When Jarvia was sufficiently dead, he made the fire go out with a quick ice spell. It was then that he realized that the fight was over. Zevran and Leliana were staring at him, a mixture of awe and shock on their faces. Shale didn't seem to care but then she never seemed surprised by anything.

"I could use some assistance," Everard announced, glancing at his leg.

The wound could have been much worse. The spikes of the trap could have gone through to his bone instead of just piercing the skin enough to draw blood. Come to think of it, that was a _lot_ of blood.

Leliana managed to get across the grease unhindered. She quickly bandaged his wound up and then they helped him to his feet.

"We need to get you and Zevran to a healer," Leliana said.

"No? You think so?" Everard replied sarcastically.

"I think this is the way out," Zevran cut in, gesturing to a door that Shale was currently standing in front of. He was holding his shoulder with his other hand.

"I feel sick," Everard muttered.

"Shale, do you think you could…er…carry him for us?" Leliana suddenly asked the golem.

"I am not a—" Shale began and then she sighed. "Yes. I will carry it."

"Thank you!" Leliana said, beaming. "Just be gentle with his leg, will you? We don't need any permanent damage done."

OoOoOoOoO

The next three days were spent at the palace recuperating. Bhelen had been kind enough to lend them rooms to stay in and he even found the best healer in Orzammar to tend to Everard and his companions. Their needs were attended to quite well but the downside was that they didn't get much time alone. Of course, Everard knew that the prince was only being so generous because he wanted Everard to continue working for him.

Shortly after Everard was declared fit enough to move around, he was summoned into Bhelen's quarters. Once more, he was told to come alone but this time Bhelen didn't seem to care if he was armed for his dagger wasn't confiscated at the door. He didn't have his staff this time because Zevran had taken it to get it fitted with a blade. Everard didn't see much of a point to that since most enemies never got lucky enough to be as close as Jarvia had been…

"Ah, Warden, it's good to see you moving around," Bhelen greeted once Everard walked through the door. "You know, they're talking all over the city about how someone finally went through Dust Town and slaughtered the Carta like genlocks."

"Good to know that everyone knows about that," Everard said. "But I would rather hear about your plans to become king. Surely there is no longer any debate about who should take over since you have done so much for the general public so far."

"I am going to pretend that that wasn't sarcasm," Bhelen replied. "As for the crown, I fear I have not yet gained it."

"What? Why?" Everard demanded.

"Do you know who Branka is?" Bhelen asked.

"She was declared a Paragon after creating a smokeless coal. But she entered the Deep Roads about two years ago and never returned. She…no. You're not implying that I am to go down there and find her so she can break this stalemate, are you?" Everard answered.

Bhelen seemed impressed that he had figured it out so quickly.

"What if she's dead?" Everard inquired. "And how am I supposed to even find her?"

"That is for you to worry about," Bhelen responded.

"Then I am going to need a few days to prepare for the journey. I am still not quite at my fighting best and I must send out a letter to my other companions…and someone else," Everard said.

"Someone else?" Bhelen repeated.

"I made a promise that I intend to keep," Everard shrugged. "It's nothing for you to worry about."

"Then you can tell me what it is," Bhelen retorted.

Everard sighed and said, "Fine. I am going to write a letter to First Enchanter Irving asking if he would accept a young dwarf for study. She is aware of her inability to do magic but she is quite fascinated by it and wishes to learn more about it."

"You believe the First Enchanter would allow her to study?" Bhelen inquired.

"The Circle could use another helping hand considering the…debacle that has happened there recently. Knowing Irving, he would accept her in a heartbeat. That and she could provide some…interesting insight into lyrium," Everard answered. "That is all that you need to know."

With that, Everard bid the prince farewell and left the room. Zevran was waiting outside for him. Everard told the elf about what he and Bhelen spoke about.

"Thus," he concluded, "we're going down to the Deep Roads. However, I don't think you will need to come. I have a feeling that Branka's husband will want to go once he finds out Bhelen's plans, which is just as well since I have something I would like you to do. After all, you are excellent at doing things stealthily and quietly, yes?"

Zevran actually smiled at that and said, "My dear Warden, I am a man of many talents."

"I do not doubt that," Everard smirked.

"But are you so sure that this Branka's husband would join you?" Zevran inquired.

"Clearly you missed the argument between the guard and that red-headed warrior," Everard responded. "It is obvious that Branka's husband is still in love with her for he wants to find her yet he cannot bear arms to do so. Anyone with half of a brain knows that going down into the Deep Roads unarmed is a surefire way to get killed. But if he were to come with me, he could wield an axe again."

"Still as resourceful as ever, aren't you?" Zevran commented.

Everard made a noncommittal sound, which caused Zevran to laugh. Soon, they were both laughing without really knowing why. It seemed to lift up their spirits, though. Alas, that would probably not last too long.

OoOoOoOoO

**Author's Note: **Thank you again to everyone who is reading this! I appreciate it more than you might know.

As for this chapter, the conversation between Bhelen and Everard at the end there was actually entirely my own words because I couldn't find it on Youtube. I also didn't take any screenshots of it for some reason. Thus, I ended up making it up which was fun. One more thing, the book mentioned in the last chapter…Everard won't have a chance to read it until probably on the way back to Redcliffe. But he will read it eventually. As for the next chapter, it shouldn't take too long for me to write. My class schedule isn't as bad as it was last month, which should give me more time to write.


	16. Not Meant to be Like This

_Chapter Sixteen: Not Meant to be Like This_

Dear Alistair,

In the letter that you should be receiving in a few days, I told you about Bhelen and the unrest in Orzammar and how we're off to the Deep Roads on the impossible seeming task of finding a Paragon by the name of Branka.

This task has become easier with the addition of yet another companion. His name is Oghren and he is…or was Branka's husband. He seems to be constantly drunk but it doesn't seem to affect his fighting ability at all. He's made several lewd jokes, which Leliana finds annoying and I find amusing. Shale seems to ignore Oghren, only occasionally snorting in derision whenever he says something particularly disgusting. Zevran has met Oghren very briefly and I never did ask what he thought of the dwarf.

The reason why Zevran is not with us is due to the fact that I've set him on a different task, one that I do not wish to pen but I will tell you about it once we see each other again.

I must cease writing for now since it is time to eat.

OoOoOoOoO

Alistair,

I am writing this quickly before we set off again. We've almost reached one of the many abandoned thaigs. Oghren has been quite helpful despite his…demeanor.

We were attacked earlier today. I think they were members of the Carta. Is it odd that I'm no longer surprised when we're randomly attacked? Granted, the Carta at least has a reason of some sort to try to kill me. Leliana is giving me that look again. She's been rather tetchy lately. I think Oghren's constant leering is to blame.

OoOoOoOoO

Alistair,

It's been awhile since the last letter. We've gone deeper into the Deep Roads, which is a bit redundant sounding, isn't it?

Well, it hasn't been uneventful. We stumbled across the Ortan Thaig and I found their old records. I'd promised a dwarf named Orta that I would get them for her so that she could prove her family was nobility.

I should also mention the dwarf we came across while in the Ortan Thaig. His name was Ruck. I speak of him in the past tense for he is now dead. I would rather he have died than continue being corrupted by the darkspawn taint. His mother had asked me to look for him and I'd acquiesced. I hate having to be the bearer of such sad news but I cannot lie to her.

It seems as though everyone wanted something before we left Orzammar. I even ran into a dwarf who wanted to open a Chantry in Orzammar. I'm sure you can guess what I said to that. If not, I can tell you that I very nicely told him where he could stick his urge to build a Chantry. I am glad that Leliana was not with me at the time. She would have loved to help him.

Speaking of helpfulness, Zevran is a genius. His idea to attach a blade to my staff was ingenious. It took me a day or two to get used to it but now...it is amazing. I can now defend myself from melee attacks without using magic. Perhaps one day I will master a sword and dagger and figure out how to use magic _and_ slash the enemies to ribbons.

Oh, it seems that Shale has spotted something. Damnation. I think I just heard an ogre…

OoOoOoOoO

Alistair,

The Archdemon. I've seen it. Up close. It is indeed the massive dragon we've seen in our dreams. Not that I doubted that at all. But to actually see it…it was terrifying, to be honest. We were able to hide but I do not think that it would have cared much for us. It was too busy commanding its army of darkspawn. There was so many darkspawn. My Warden senses, as Oghren calls them, were…I guess over-whelmed. Or something else happened that caused me to black out. Oghren was irritated that he had to help drag me away from our hiding place. He has some very creative curses.

I just want to say that I do not look forward to the day that we have to face the Archdemon and defeat it. I cannot possibly fathom how we would kill it without losing a whole army.

OoOoOoOoO

Alistair,

We've just finished setting up camp. Our journey was rather eventful today. If it has indeed only been one day and not two. The following took place at the Dead Trenches, which is near where I saw the Archdemon.

We met the Legion of the Dead, who are not really dead at all. I don't know if that's ironic or not. I guess it would be irony if they were actually dead? Forgive me if that made no sense. I'm still trying to process what just happened. And it has nothing to do with the Legion of the Dead.

No. It has to do with Branka. Well, her first lieutenant, Hespith. We found her in the Deep Roads. She was muttering a terrible sort of poem that went like this:

"First day, they come and catch everyone.

Second day, they beat us and eat some for meat.

Third day, the men are all gnawed on again.

Fourth day, we wait and fear for our fate.

Fifth day, they return and it's another girl's turn.

Sixth day, her screams we hear in our dreams.

Seventh day, she grew as in her mouth they spew.

Eighth day, we hate it as she is violated.

Ninth day, she grins and devours her kin.

Now she does feast, as she's has become the beast."

I may have nightmares of her reciting that poem now…with her blank, dead-looking eyes boring into me just before she steps off the edge of a cliff…

I digress. It turns out that she and Branka were romantically involved. Oghren didn't seem too surprised. Oddly enough, he seemed to almost like the idea of two women doing things that I know will make your ears turn redder than a tomato.

Other than that, Hespith also knew where to find Branka and she pointed us in the right direction. Of course, this was only after we got to witness what a broodmother looks like. I realized that it was once a female dwarf, which was what Hespith's poem was clearly talking about. Let's just say that I hope you never have to witness what a broodmother looks like. They are pitiful creatures and absolutely disgusting and rather hard to slay. I only hope that I never see another one of those creatures…

OoOoOoOoO

Alistair,

Who would have thought that Oghren would have married a woman who is so insane that it is actually a bit depressing?

Although, I think her time in the Deep Roads hasn't helped her sanity much. Because Oghren even admitted that she was already a bit off her rocker when they married. Well, it seems she became even crazier.

Her search for this Anvil of the Void was her and her House's undoing. It was definitely hers. But I need to backtrack for a moment.

You see, we found Branka and she immediately trapped us so that we couldn't turn back. Then, she let us know that the only way we'd ever escape is if we got the Anvil for her. Naturally, there were traps. Traps mainly involving golems coming to life and trying to kill us. There were also a lot of darkspawn but that's a regular sight in the Deep Roads. And then we came across the stone statue that could summon vicious dwarven spirits.

Once we made it through all of that joy and happiness, we ended up meeting Caridin. He was once a Paragon but he turned himself into a golem. Surprisingly enough, he knew Shale. He knew her before she was a golem and she's actually a woman as I've tried to tell you numerous times. In fact, she volunteered to be turned into a golem. I don't think she realized that she was going to have her head smashed on an anvil and her soul transferred to a stone body, though. If she did know of all that, I'm surprised she still volunteered.

Branka appeared shortly after our talk with Caridin. She wanted the Anvil. Caridin wanted it destroyed. I weighed the options. Fight a stone giant and let an insane woman use a potentially dangerous artifact or fight Branka and destroy the Anvil so that no more golems could be made. I went with the latter, of course.

I destroyed the Anvil of the Void. Shale seemed to approve. Caridin thanked me right before he decided he wanted to die in the lava below us to atone for his sins. Of course, before that, he forged a crown for the future king of Orzammar and told me to give it to whomever I wished. I think it will be easy enough to lie and say that Caridin himself chose the king.

The next thing that occurred—yes, there's more—is that we found some sort of ancient carving listing the names of all of the dwarves who volunteered to be made into golems. We took a tracing of it for the Shaperate.

Shale then voiced that she truly did agree with my decision to side with Caridin and she expressed that she wished to go to the thaig she came from. She knows the way and, well, Shale doesn't usually ask for anything. We're going to stop by her old home on the way to Orzammar. I doubt it will be quite that simple but I can always hope, right?

OoOoOoOoO

Dear Alistair,

Thank the Maker we've finally almost made it back to Orzammar. Going to Shale's old home was not nearly as simple as I'd hoped it would be.

Near the end of our visit, we were attacked by more darkspawn and I sustained an injury. I know I will be alright. I used a bit of healing magic on my wound and it was just enough to stop the bleeding. I don't know how it happened. One minute, I had just slit the throat of a hurlock and then the next minute I was on my back and Leliana shouted something about blood. Then, everything blacked out. When I came to, Leliana was bandaging my wound. It turns out that the hurlock managed to nick my side with its blade before I cut it down.

In other news, Oghren keeps calling me 'sparkle-fingers.' Also, I think if he leers at Leliana again, she's going to do something…permanently unpleasant to him. I only wrote that because the dwarf was reading over my shoulder, which reminds me that we're about to start moving on again. Oghren thinks we'll reach Orzammar in a couple of hours. This will probably be the last letter chronicling our journey.

OoOoOoOoO

It turned out that Oghren was actually right. Everard was thankful for this. He didn't think he could handle much longer in the Deep Roads.

Naturally, there was a lot to do in Orzammar. The first thing that he did was inform Ruck's mother of his death. Then, he met up with Zevran outside of the Assembly.

"Are you ready to crown the king?" Zevran asked.

Everard gestured to the elaborate crown that Oghren was holding and answered, "It would seem so. Did everything…go well?"

"It took a few days but I was able to complete my task," Zevran responded.

"Good," Everard replied. "And thank you, Zev. Your help is appreciated."

"What are you two talking about?" Leliana inquired.

"Uh…nothing," Everard muttered.

Leliana crossed her arms over her chest and he added slyly, "We should probably go crown the king…but…give me a minute."

They all recognized the gentle blue color of healing magic that Everard used on his injured side. However, none of them said anything.

"Hmm…that should take the edge off," Everard mumbled, avoiding Leliana's concerned look. His eyes fell on Zevran and he couldn't help but wonder why the elf looked so worried.

He didn't dwell on that for long, though. Soon enough, he and the others were entering through the double doors leading into the main assembly chambers.

Bhelen was talking but Everard didn't listen to the words. He just waited until someone noticed them. It didn't take long before a dwarf stepped forward and announced that the Grey Warden had returned.

Everard wondered why that declaration caused so many audible gasps. Perhaps they hadn't expected him to return. Nevertheless, he and Oghren stepped forward together.

"Well, Warden," Bhelen asked, "what news do you bring?"

He hadn't missed the sound of the dwarf's voice. In fact, he'd been trying to forget that grating, smug tone Bhelen always had.

"I bear a crown made by Paragon Caridin for his chosen king," Everard announced.

Oghren decided to speak at that moment. Everard only listened with half an ear since he didn't quite care about the speeches and so forth. He just wanted to get Bhelen crowned and leave Orzammar.

"Tell us, Warden, which king did Paragon Caridin choose?" A dwarf inquired after Oghren finished speaking.

Everard hesitated for a fraction of a second before he said, a little resignedly perhaps, "Caridin chose Bhelen."

Another collective gasp from those gathered.

"At last, this farce has ended and I can take my rightful place on my father's throne," Bhelen declared.

Everard watched with disinterest as Bhelen was crowned. Although, he found it rather comical how large the crown looked once it was placed on Bhelen's head.

The first thing that Bhelen did as king was ask Harrowmont, "Do you acknowledge me as king?"

"I…cannot defy a Paragon," Harrowmont answered, kneeling. "The throne is yours, King Bhelen."

"Then as my first act as king, I call for this man's execution," Bhelen announced. "Guards, seize him!"

Without thinking, Everard stepped forward and got between Harrowmont and the guards.

"I did not give you that crown so that you could be a tyrant!" He cried. "Let Harrowmont retire in peace."

Bhelen's eyes narrowed at this and he ordered, "Step aside, Warden."

"Everard, don't," Leliana chimed in softly.

Bhelen glanced at the guards when Everard didn't move. Still weakened from his wound, Everard was unable to stop the guards as they forced him to his knees and held his arms back. He watched as two other guards led Harrowmont away. He didn't struggle or try to protest any further.

"Release him," Bhelen barked once Harrowmont was gone. "Warden, I would like to see you in my quarters."

Everard stood and followed Bhelen. He gestured for the others to wait for him somewhere. Zevran turned to Leliana and said something that Everard didn't quite catch. But the worried look in his eyes told Everard more than his words could.

OoOoOoOoO

"I refuse to take back what I said," Everard remarked once he and Bhelen were safely tucked away in the palace.

"I thought you wanted Orzammar's help," Bhelen retorted.

"The treaty compels you to lend the Wardens your troops. You cannot go back on that," Everard rejoined.

Bhelen smirked and said, "You are quite persistent and outspoken."

"Yes, well, you aren't the first to think that," Everard replied. "You get used to it, though."

There was a lapse of silence before Everard continued, "I wish you hadn't ordered for Harrowmont's execution. It just might complicate things."

"Do you think his house will retaliate?" Bhelen asked.

Everard shook his head and said, "No. It just makes you look like a tyrant. That's why I said what I did."

"You know better than anyone the war facing us, Warden. Orzammar cannot afford to be divided. Anyone undermining my reign is serving only the darkspawn," Bhelen responded. "Now then, I will call for my generals and prepare our forces for the surface."

"Oh, good. I can't wait," Everard muttered.

Bhelen raised an eyebrow and commented, "I'll pretend that that wasn't sarcasm."

"Go ahead," Everard said. "If you don't mind, I need to do some preparations of my own. My companions and I are going to leave Orzammar as soon as possible."

"Do as you wish then," Bhelen replied. "On your way out, let Vartag know that he needs to gather the generals."

"You aren't my king," Everard reciprocated. "I do not have to obey your orders, so find a servant to do your bidding."

Bhelen scowled and Everard chuckled softly at the reaction. Nobility was quite fun to rile up.

OoOoOoOoO

Half an hour later, Everard and Zevran met up in Tapsters Tavern. Oghren was off at another table getting drunk again whereas Leliana and Shale were collecting supplies. It had been hard to get rid of Leliana since she'd been so concerned about Everard's health and general well-being. But he'd managed to convince her to go with Shale.

The elf was dressed more like a commoner. No armor, just black trousers, a red tunic shirt, and a simple grey jacket. He still had his daggers close at hand, though.

"Before we begin our discussion," Zevran said, reaching into his jacket, "I have a few letters to give you."

"Oh, yes. That's right," Everard mused. "I almost forgot about that."

He took the pieces of parchment from the elf and set to reading the letters. The first one was from Alistair, giving everyone his best wishes in regards to the Deep Roads expedition. He also complained that Eamon was going on nonstop about the Landsmeet and how a king should present himself. He addressed Everard directly in the letter, demanding to know why he'd been left behind. The second letter was written in a very familiar hand. First Enchanter Irving had accepted Dagna's request to study at the Circle of Magi. The third and final letter was from Jowan. He talked about how Lyria and Paxton had made it safely back to camp and how they'd discussed going over to Orlais or the Free Marches until the Blight was over. Jowan also wrote a few encouraging words for Everard.

"Dagna is going to be thrilled," Everard observed once he'd finished reading. "We should escort her to the Circle ourselves. After all, it's not too far from Redcliffe."

Zevran just nodded in agreement and asked, "So, does our fearless leader wish to know how our plan worked out?"

Everard smiled wryly and replied, "Yes. It's been bothering me…"

"As you might have known, they were…distrustful of me at first," Zevran said, lowering his voice.

"You _are_ my companion, after all. Of course they'd be suspicious," Everard interjected.

"Perhaps more than they should have been," Zevran shrugged.

"But you managed to convince them, right?"

"My dear Warden, do you have so little faith in me?"

"No, no. I trust that you did your best."

"Naturally. But, yes, I convinced them. Well, not all of them and only one being important enough to be mentioned."

"Which one?"

"Renvil, Harrowmont's nephew. He took a handful of guards with him."

"Did you give him a map?"

"Indeed I did."

"Good…that's good. At least he will be able to continue his line elsewhere. I fear for the fate of the rest of the Harrowmonts, though."

"Hmm, yes. Now then, shall we drink? You have had a long journey, I am sure."

"Let's drink to the fact that we're leaving this wretched place soon."

Zevran chuckled and stood to go get some drinks.

_All too soon, it might just be time to face the Archdemon, _Everard thought as he watched Zevran walk away. _I hope that I will be ready when that time comes…_

**Author's Note: **I'd like to thank everyone reading and commenting and favoriting and such! I truly appreciate it.

So, I did this chapter in mainly letter form because it's been awhile since I played this part of the game. Also, as a random note, Hespith freaked me out the first time that I played Dragon Age: Origins. The poem she kept reciting made me wonder if I was about to encounter something awful. Naturally, that's what happened. Also, the name for this chapter stems from the fact that, to be honest, when I first played the game, I didn't actually expect things to happen the way that they did in Orzammar/the Deep Roads.

As for the ending of this chapter, some of you might remember playing Dragon Age II and meeting Renvil Harrowmont at the Docks in Act I. Well, I wondered how he had escaped from Orzammar. And then it hit me. What if Everard had a hand in helping Renvil? After all, he most definitely did not appreciate Bhelen's decision to execute the Harrowmonts. Of course, I kind of figured that Bhelen would execute his 'competition.' After all, he does basically kill both of his brothers…


	17. An Old Flame

_Chapter Seventeen: An Old Flame_

The sun was just barely peeking through the dense gray-white clouds. Snow had recently fallen and not been trodden on as of yet. Everard was glad to see the outside again. He guessed that Zevran, Leliana, and maybe even Shale were glad as well.

On the other hand, Oghren looked a bit green in the face when he looked up at the sky. Dagna seemed fascinated by it all, even more so by the snow. She scooped up a handful of the snow and gasped at how cold it was.

"So, this is what the surface world is like!" Dagna cried, running ahead of them and spinning around to try to take in her surroundings all at once.

Oghren still looked like he was about to hurl. Zevran prodded the dwarf and laughed when Oghren nearly jumped out of his skin.

"D-don't do that, you…you stupid elf!" Oghren shouted, feeling slightly ashamed of his lack of a better insult. He sighed and muttered, "Give me a moment."

"Sure, take your time," Everard replied.

"By the Stone, I feel like I'm about to fall off the world with all that sky up there," Oghren admitted.

"Is it strange to you?" Everard asked, genuinely curious. He'd figured that anyone who lived their whole lives underground might find the sky to be a strange and new concept.

"Strange?" Oghren repeated. "Ha! Strange is your wife turning out to prefer the ladies. Not living in a world without a bleeding ceiling." He glanced back up at the sky for a fleeting moment before he remarked, "Well, let's get moving. We're losing…whatchacallit? Daylight."

Everard hummed in agreement and led the way away from the gates of Orzammar. Dagna came up beside him and jabbed him in the side to get his attention. He pretended that that didn't hurt more than it should have.

"May I help you?" Everard asked, raising his eyebrows at the dwarf.

"I just want to thank you again for writing to the First Enchanter," Dagna chirped, beaming. "I never realized how beautiful the surface world would be, though. I mean, I know there's a Blight and all but it's all still so…so magnificent!"

"It can be," Everard said.

"So, how did you become a Grey Warden? I mean, you obviously lived in the Circle Tower…" Dagna trailed off, looking up at him expectantly.

"Let's just say that I got myself into some trouble and that a Grey Warden happened to be there to recruit me," Everard shrugged.

"Ohh…what kind of trouble?" Dagna pressed, eyes shining with excitement.

"My friend, Jowan, was in love with a Chantry initiate," Everard explained. "They wanted to live together freely, so Jowan asked me to help them escape after I'd finished my Harrowing, the test apprentices have to take in order to become a fully-fledged mage. However, in order for him to leave and not be found again, his phylactery had to be destroyed. You do know what that is, right?"

Dagna nodded and recited, "A phylactery is a vial that contains the blood of a specific mage. The templars can use it to track rogue mages."

Everard wasn't surprised that she knew that. She seemed like the type of person who absorbed everything that she read and never forgot it.

"Well, as you can guess, I agreed to help him since I've known Jowan for most of my life," Everard continued. "We broke into the place where they keep our phylacteries. I found Jowan's and he destroyed it. As we left the phylactery…let's just say that Irving knew all along what we were planning. Jowan was accused of being a blood mage and he was going to be executed on the spot. I knew it was true even though he'd never told me. Lily didn't know, though. I think he should have told her but then…people have such negative opinions about blood magic because of what they've heard.

Anyway, she refused to go with him after he knocked out the templars and Irving. He ran and got away. I stayed behind, knowing full well what would've happened had I gone with him.

I didn't think about what would happen if I stayed, though. I don't know what Irving and Knight-Commander Greagoir would have done to me since the Grey Warden, Duncan, stepped in and conscripted me."

"Hmmm. I've read about blood mages," Dagna declared. "In all of the texts I've found, they describe blood magic as being evil and corruptive."

"It's only evil if the person using the magic is. They can be good but become corrupted, though, if they make a deal with a demon," Everard retorted. "You see, you can learn blood magic on your own without a demon being present. There was a grimoire in the Circle Tower, written specifically to tell a mage how to use blood magic. It's fairly simple but takes a bit of practice to master."

Dagna seemed to consider this for a moment before she replied, "I suppose that would be possible…"

Everard sighed and muttered, "I know what I am talking about…I'm a maleficar…and I don't bargain with demons."

Dagna just stared at him for a moment before she said, "I never thought that someone would write a book about that."

"Neither did I," Everard shrugged.

They fell silent after that.

OoOoOoOoO

He hadn't given much thought about the horses until they reached the stables. He quickly thought up who should ride with whom. Everard decided that he'd let Dagna ride with Leliana and have Oghren pair up with Zevran. He doubted Oghren would be very thrilled with that idea.

After easily wheedling his way out of paying more the horses' board than was necessary, Everard announced these arrangements to his companions. Oghren immediately protested even getting on one of the horses.

"Then you get to walk," Everard told him, crossing his arms over his chest. "All of those miles. Miles and miles of road. On foot. Almost non-stop."

Oghren's face scrunched up as he thought about that.

"Fine," Oghren finally grunted. "I'll get on the blasted horse."

Dagna didn't seem to have any problem with the horses. In fact, she was quite fascinated by them. She and Leliana amiably chatted as they rode. Zevran and Oghren bantered for a bit before falling silent. Everard didn't really listen to them. He just wanted to get to Lake Calenhad and then back to Redcliffe.

Of course, they soon came across a bandit camp. Everard opted to go around it.

"What if they attack some poor people fleeing darkspawn?" Leliana demanded the moment he said this.

"Fine," he said, dismounting from his horse. "Stay here. I'll take care of them."

"On your own?" Dagna asked.

"Yes," he replied. "I've been meaning to test out a spell or two that cannot be used indoors."

With that, he broke away from their group and crept to the edge of the bandit camp. He crouched down and focused his magic on the center of the camp. It was already rather cold outside but soon it got much, much colder. The bandits looked around warily as it began to snow lightly. The wind picked up. One of the bandits shouted something but he froze midway through speaking. More bandits began to freeze into place. The ones who had been on the outskirts of the camp came to see what was happening. They too froze.

Abruptly, the blizzard stopped only to be replaced by lightening. Everard stood up, letting those who lived see him and knowing that none of them would have time to draw their weapons. The tempest increased in power, killing any bandit that hadn't already frozen to death. Once Everard was sure that all of the bandits were dead, he made the tempest wink out of existence. The two spells had taken quite a bit of mana to use but it was worth it.

He quickly made his way back to the others and rejoined them.

"I could feel your power from here," Leliana remarked.

"I might have shown off a bit," Everard shrugged.

He got back on his horse and continued moving forward. After just a moment of hesitation, the others followed.

OoOoOoOoO

Just before sundown, they decided to set up camp.

"Even with all of the stopping we did, my arse still feels sore," Oghren grumbled once he was off of the horse.

Zevran snickered and Oghren growled, "Not a word from you, elf."

The elf tried to give the dwarf an innocent look but he ruined it by smirking. Leliana blatantly ignored them as she helped Dagna off of the horse.

With more people to help than usual, the tents were put up fairly quickly. The only problem was the sleeping arrangements. Oghren decided that he would rather sleep outside than share a tent with Everard or Zevran. Leliana and Dagna didn't mind sharing a tent at all, though. Shale seemed disappointed that Oghren would be outside. Even the golem had noticed the strange smells the dwarf gave off.

Once night fell, Everard retired earlier than the rest. He did not miss how Leliana flashed him a concerned look as he crawled into his and Zevran's tent. He curled up into his bed roll, trying to make himself as comfortable as possible. The moment his eyes closed, he saw the Archdemon looking directly at him. It roared as though it were giving some sort of command. Everard's eyes shot open and he raced out of the tent as fast as possible, grabbing his staff on the way out.

"Darkspawn attack!" He shouted. "Get ready!"

Dagna suddenly looked terrified as everyone drew their weapons and prepared for the attack. Everard quickly cast a force field around her so that she would not be injured. Moments after he did this, several shrieks appeared. He rushed to her side just in case his force field didn't work.

Before his companions could attack, one of the nearby shrieks let out a horrible scream. Unfortunately, Everard was the closest one to it. He pressed his hands to his ears as it shrieked. The sound made him feel unusually numb.

"Everard!" Dagna exclaimed suddenly. "Look out!"

He barely heard her over the shriek. Of course, he knew he wouldn't be able to react in time to cast an offensive spell against his attacker. But he _could_ cast mind blast. With just one thought, he did just that and the shriek that'd been bounding towards him was thrown backwards. He moved his hands away from his ears and lit the pitiful creature on fire before it could even stand again.

Shortly after that, Everard took a moment to see how the others were faring. Oghren was cutting the shrieks around him down easily. Shale effortlessly crushed the head of one that had tried to attack her from behind. Leliana was helping Zevran take down three of them with her daggers. Everard threw a stone fist at one that was trying to sneak up behind Oghren. The dwarf quickly dispatched it before giving Everard a quick look of appreciation.

Soon, all of the shrieks were dead. Everard released Dagna from the spell he'd cast. She appeared to be a bit shaken up but, other than that, the dwarf was fine.

"Thank Andraste you're a Warden. We would have been overwhelmed otherwise!" Leliana remarked.

Everard merely shrugged and said, "We should probably move camp now. It would be unwise to remain in this spot."

"It's rather dark out, though," Dagna pointed out.

"True," Everard agreed. He quickly created two spell wisps and added, "Is that better?"

Dagna stared in awe at the simple wisps. Clearly anything magical was going to fascinate her.

It was fairly easy to gather everything up and move. Finding another spot, however, was a bit more difficult. They walked three miles before they were able to find a suitable spot. Once more, they set up camp. Thankfully, this time, Everard was able to go to sleep in peace.

OoOoOoOoO

While Zevran was making breakfast the next morning, Oghren came up to Everard.

"There you are. Wanted to talk to you," Oghren remarked.

"What about?" Everard asked, intrigued.

"You and I, we've…you know how sometimes, you spend time with…people, and things…hm," Oghren said.

"I love you too, Oghren," Everard smirked, knowing that that wasn't what Oghren was trying to say.

"I—what? Keep your hands where I can see 'em! Sheesh, can't a man address a friend without getting all…weird?" Oghren sputtered. "I was just asking a favor. You had to go all…**that** on me."

Everard chuckled and then inquired, "What's this favor you want to ask?"

Oghren cleared his throat and explained, "I was thinking, I do know some people out here on the surface. A person, actually. Girl I knew in Orzammar. Before I left, obviously."

"A girl you knew, or a girl you **knew?**" Everard asked.

"What?" Oghren replied. "You mean were we rutting? Oh, aye. After Branka left for the Deep Roads. Name's Felsi, and she was a fiery one. I'm sure she's forgiven me by now. Thought maybe I'd track her down. See how she's been living."

"Do you know how to find her?" Everard queried.

"Last I heard, she was working in a tavern in some place called Lake Clanehard or something like that," Oghren responded.

Everard stared at him for a moment before he asked, "Do you mean Lake Calenhad?"

"Pretty sure it was Lake Clanehard," Oghren retorted.

"Well, I don't think there's a place called that. But…there _is_ a Lake Calenhad and that is where we're going. Perhaps you should look for this Felsi there just in case you…misheard where she was," Everard said.

Oghren grunted out a thank you before he wandered off to go see if Zevran was finished making breakfast. Well, it was more like Oghren was going to pester the elf about hurrying up.

Everard looked around their small camp for a moment until he spotted Leliana and Dagna. The rogue was showing Dagna how to braid her hair like hers. He was glad to see them preoccupied since no one would notice him sneaking a short distance away from the camp. He'd be far enough that no one would be able to see him but close enough that he'd hear if there was any trouble.

He ducked into his tent and removed the book Dagna had given him from his bag. He carefully crept back out and into the woods.

Once he found a suitable spot to read, Everard sat down and opened the book. He skipped through the pages until he came across his mother's name.

The book wasn't just pages and pages of a family tree. Each generation had their own section. Their names were written at the top of the page where their story began. It also had either a hand drawn picture or a description of what each Amell looked like. Then, it had a biography of the person, telling about their life from birth to death. The book even had biographies of past Amell's spouses and mentioned their families. This shocked Everard a bit since he hadn't been expecting that.

He hadn't expected to see his father's portrait on the page after Revka's. What surprised him further was that it was colored. His father's light brown eyes stared up at him from the page. And he had distinctly elven features.

Upon reading his father's biography, he found out that his father—Jonah—had been half-elf, half-human. He was the illegitimate son of a nobleman but his father had treated him like any of his other children, so the people of Kirkwall were more than likely unaware of his status as a bastard child. He'd taken on Revka's last name since the Amells, at the time, had been quite wealthy.

The next bit made Everard's heart leap up into his throat.

_Revka and Jonah had their first child, a boy whom they named Malachi, _Everard read. _Unfortunately, six years later, the boy was discovered to have magic shortly after Revka found out that she was pregnant again. At the time, her uncle, Astride, was to succeed the previous viscount. He did not get his rightful place due to the birth of this mage child. _

_ Jonah and Revka visited their son while Revka was pregnant. However, they decided to leave the Free Marches for Ferelden shortly after Revka's brother, Damion, was accused of smuggling and their father, Fausten, nearly bankrupted them to get the charges dropped._

_ They arrived in Lothering where Revka gave birth to their second son, Everard. Merely six months later, Jonah was killed while trying to rescue a little girl from a fire. Neither of them survived. _

Everard just stared at the book for a long moment, not really seeing the words on the page anymore. He couldn't believe it. He had an older brother who was more than likely at the Circle in Kirkwall. His father had been half-elven _and_ a noble's son.

"Everard?" A voice called, breaking him from his thoughts. "Where are you?"

He didn't even register whose voice it was. He just called back, "I'll be there in a moment."

He flipped to the next page and saw yet another portrait. This time it was of a woman who had auburn hair and grey eyes. She was named…Leandra Hawke nee Amell.

The last name shocked him but he would have to wait to read about her, to see if she had any relation to the Hawke from his visions. Although, he hadn't had any lately…

Everard marked his place and slammed the book shut. He stood up and brushed a bit of dirt from his trousers. He abruptly stopped, wondering why in the world he'd just done that.

_I am certainly _not_ a nobleman, _he reminded himself.

OoOoOoOoO

Zevran noticed right away that Everard was distracted. This was especially obvious since he didn't speak or sing or even hum as they continued their journey towards Lake Calenhad. And he didn't respond whenever someone said anything to him.

It wasn't until they stopped to rest and eat a quick meal that Everard seemed to remember that his companions were still there. Still, he said nothing to them.

"Are you feeling okay?" Dagna finally asked midway through their meal.

Everard glanced around until he realized that she was talking to him. He merely nodded in answer.

"You seem to be…somewhere else," Dagna remarked boldly.

Several responses to came to Everard, most of them sarcastic. But he didn't say any of them. He just shrugged and finished off the thin soup Dagna had prepared. He ended up collecting everyone else's bowls and cleaning them off to the side of where they'd stopped. Just as he froze the first bowl, melted the ice, and started scrubbing it with soap, Zevran crouched down next to him.

"I can manage this on my own," Everard muttered.

"Oh, I am not here to help you clean," Zevran retorted.

"You're here to see why I have been so quiet," Everard said, setting the now-clean bowl aside and starting on the next one. "But if I tell you, you will surely tell the others to placate their worries. Not that I think Shale is probably too worried about me."

"If you ask me, I will not tell them," Zevran replied.

Everard considered that statement for a moment. He trusted Zevran quite a bit. There was just something about the elf…

"Dagna gave me a book," he began, speaking so softly that Zevran actually had to strain to hear him. "It's about…my family. And I found out a few things while reading it. Things that shocked me."

"What were they?" Zevran asked.

Everard resumed scrubbing the bowl. He raised his voice just a bit as he explained, "My father was the illegitimate son of an elven servant and a nobleman. And I have a brother who is six years older than I am and he more than likely resides within the Kirkwall Circle. Apparently, his name is Malachi."

"Ah. So, that is why you do not have any facial hair…you have elven blood," Zevran smirked.

The mage cracked a smile at that.

"I can see how that can be a lot to take in, though," the elf continued. "You have every right to be…so quiet. Forgive me—"

"There's nothing to forgive," Everard interrupted. "Nothing at all."

Zevran took this as his hint to leave and he stood up. He was surprised when Everard asked him to stay and handed him a piece of cloth.

"You could always help me out by drying the bowls," he suggested, giving the elf a small smile.

"How could I resist such a task?" Zevran chuckled.

OoOoOoOoO

"Will you stop making that blasted noise?" Oghren demanded.

Everard hummed louder in response. Oghren grumbled under his breath at that.

"It is good that he is humming," Leliana said quietly.

"It's annoying," Oghren retorted, glancing back at her.

"We are almost there," Everard suddenly declared.

They'd been traveling for nearly five days now. Dagna had said that it took two weeks to get from Orzammar to Lake Calenhad. She clearly hadn't accounted for the fact that dwarves had short legs and more than likely wouldn't ride horses. Granted, they'd probably only be able to ride ponies if they did decide to travel that way. However, riding a pony might damage their dwarven pride.

"How do you know that?" Dagna inquired.

Everard pointed up to the sky. Dagna looked and immediately realized what he was talking about. The top of the tower was visible in the distance.

Then, of course, Oghren had to make a lewd joke about how they erected the tower. Zevran snickered at that and Everard just sighed resignedly. He'd expected the dwarf to make some sort of remark about how his old home looked.

They continued on their way. Oghren and Zevran engaged themselves in some idle banter. Dagna, Leliana, and even Shale started talking about shoes.

"So, you and the Grey Warden, huh?" Oghren suddenly said, catching Everard's attention.

He acted like he didn't just hear that. He hoped Zevran would ignore the comment. His hopes were crushed, though.

"What about us?" Zevran asked, doing his best to sound confused.

Over the course of the last few days, he and Everard had become far closer than they'd imagined. If Everard was honest, he'd say he had thought of Zevran as…a potential romance option since the trip to Denerim. But he'd probably never admit that out loud.

Oghren just snorted at Zevran's attempt at innocence and said something about nugs and humping. Everard decided to definitely ignore them now. Instead, he focused on just reaching the Circle Tower. He'd already decided that he would take Dagna inside alone. He figured that Oghren would be busy looking for his old flame. Leliana, Shale, and Zevran would probably help the dwarf search.

_I won't be there for long anyway, _Everard thought.

Just then, an arrow whizzed by his head. His horse reared up suddenly and he fell off. He hit the ground _hard._ Darkness was slowly swallowing the blurred sky away. He heard someone call out his name but it sounded so far away. Then he heard a clash of metal on metal, loud and clear. The sound jolted him back.

Zevran was right beside him, finishing off a bandit with one graceful and deadly strike. Everard tried to move but he stopped when pain shot through his whole body. He didn't like just lying there, listening to his companions fight. So, he tried to move again but someone stepped on his chest. He ground his teeth together and grabbed that person's leg.

"That _hurts,_" he snarled.

The person cried out in pain and Everard heard a thump as they fell to the ground beside him. Moments later, the fighting seemed to stop.

"Victory is ours," Zevran remarked, reappearing at Everard's side. "Can you sit up?"

"I don't know. But I do know that Wynne was right. I should not have left her in Redcliffe. A spirit healer would be helpful about now," Everard muttered.

"Luckily, we are not too much further from the Circle," Leliana declared.

"Or I could just drink a health poultice," Everard suggested, finally managing to sit up but it was quite uncomfortable.

"Your skull could be cracked, though," Leliana retorted.

"Well, at least the poultice will help me actually get to the Circle," the Warden rejoined.

Zevran suddenly tapped Everard on the shoulder and handed him a vial filled with the red healing liquid. Everard downed the whole thing, wincing at the taste. At least he was able to stand after drinking it.

He managed to get back onto his horse without assistance. The group continued on their way to Lake Calenhad. Everard surmised that they'd reach there in less than an hour's time if they hurried.

Which they didn't do because Leliana _and_ Zevran were both concerned for Everard's health. So, it took nearly three hours for them to get to Lake Calenhad.

OoOoOoOoO

"About bloody time!" Oghren exclaimed the moment that the entrance to the small town appeared up ahead.

Everard couldn't help but agree with the dwarf. He only knew so many horrifying ballads to sing…

"It looks so…tiny," Dagna commented as they passed between the two pillars that marked the entrance.

"That's because it is," Everard replied. "The only thing here is the Spoiled Princess…"

Everard looked pointedly at Oghren to see if that rang any bells. It apparently did because the dwarf exclaimed, "That's where Felsi is!"

_Ah, maybe he's smarter than I gave him credit for, _Everard thought.

"Well, let's go in after we dismount," he said to Oghren.

"What about your—" Leliana began.

"Nothing another health poultice can't help," Everard interjected.

Shortly after drinking more of the rather vile liquid, Everard followed Oghren into the Spoiled Princess. Dagna trailed after them, deciding that she wanted to see what an inn was like. The others stayed behind since someone had to watch the horses.

The moment that they entered the small inn, Oghren nudged Everard in the ribs—since he could only reach that high—and said, "There she is!"

Everard really didn't appreciate the elbowing since the health poultice only numbed his pain enough so that he could move. He didn't stay mad for long, though.

Oghren pointed Felsi out and then turned to Everard, "I'm gonna go talk to her. Look, you gotta back me up here, got it?"

"She's not a genlock. You can handle her on your own!" Everard replied, trying not to chuckle.

"You'll do fine," Dagna added encouragingly.

"You haven't met her, I take it?" Oghren replied.

Everard couldn't help but sense more behind that statement, so he asked, "How dangerous can she be?"

"Ah…we parted under…less than friendly terms," Oghren said slowly.

"What does that mean exactly?" Everard inquired, knowing he'd regret that question.

"She threw me out of her house and tossed all of my clothes into a lava vent. Threatened to take a pair of smithing tongs to…well, you get the idea," Oghren explained. He sighed, almost wistfully. "She always was cute when she was angry."

"…maybe I should go talk to her first," Everard suggested.

"Find out how much she misses old Oghren, or who I have to kill, and then I'll go sweep her off her feet," the dwarf said. "That's me. Mister Charm."

A bit begrudgingly, Everard went up to Felsi and started talking to her. He brought up Oghren in the most subtle way he could. Felsi then told Everard that she really didn't want to see Oghren again after he got drunk, took off his pants, and wrestled a roast nug…at her father's funeral. And he lost the match. It was then that the bartender barked at her to clean the tables. Everard really wanted to shoot a lightening bolt at the man. But Felsi decided she'd talked to him enough and went to do her job.

_Why do I keep doing these things for people? _Everard wondered as he rejoined Oghren and Dagna.

"Well, what did she say?" Oghren asked, sounding just a bit excited.

"She hasn't really forgiven you for the nug incident," Everard admitted.

"That fight was rigged!" Oghren responded. "Anyway, the guards said it wasn't worth pressing charges. So she's no call to hold a grudge! Did she say anything else?"

Everard sighed resignedly and said, "No. Go get her."

"Just be ready to pry her off when she throws herself at me. We don't want to make a scene here. Well, don't pry her off me **too soon**. I mean, a little scene's all right," Oghren replied.

_May his ancestors help him…he'll need it, _Everard thought.

Oghren strutted over to Felsi and commented, "Are you sure you're not a baker? 'Cause you've got a sodding nice set of buns."

Dagna grimaced and quickly looked away while Everard's palm became acquainted with his forehead.

_That is the _worst_ pick-up line I've ever heard, _he thought.

Felsi turned to Oghren and rejoined, "Well look what the nug dragged in. I should've known you were in the neighborhood by the stench. What are you doing here?"

"Just trying to kick back with a pint. Fighting darkspawn's a lot of sodding work, you know?" Oghren said, completely undeterred by her reaction.

"You're fighting darkspawn?" Felsi responded in disbelief.

Everard didn't say anything, he just watched and hoped that Oghren would somehow salvage the conversation.

"Well, someone's gotta do it, you know. Can't leave a Blight to the humans, they'll just muck it all up," Oghren shrugged.

Felsi scoffed and said, "A whole surface to choose from, and you just **happened** to come to my tavern?"

"Er…well…"

"Tell her it's fate," Everard said softly so that only Oghren could hear him.

Oghren actually looked at Everard and said, "What? Oh, right. It's fate, Felsi. What can I say?"

_Oh, Maker. End it now, _Everard silently begged.

"Fate?" Felsi repeated. "The ancestors must have a sense of humor then."

"Sure they do!" Oghren agreed, seemingly oblivious to her sarcasm. "You've had a good look at Lady Helmi, haven't you? If her face isn't a joke the ancestors are playing, I'm a bronto's behind."

"So…Lady Helmi must be a Paragon of beauty then," Felsi deadpanned.

Everard barely held back a chuckle at that.

"Uh…tell her you've been thinking about her," he whispered to Oghren, hoping that maybe she'd find that creepy and end this painful process.

"I've been thinkin' about you Felsi," Oghren said.

"What do you want, Oghren?" She finally demanded.

"Nothin'. Just thought I'd see how you are doing, that's all. Well, maybe that and grease up the bronto, if you know what I mean," Oghren leered.

_I didn't need to hear that, _Everard thought.

"Well, you've seen me. You'll have to go back to Orzammar for the bronto," Felsi rejoined.

Everard considered his next move carefully before he chimed in with, "Admit it, Oghren is much more fun than the men around here."

"If by "fun," you mean, "more likely to light farts on fire," yes," Felsi retorted, glancing at Everard.

Oghren almost sounded a bit resigned when he finally—at long last—said, "Ah, well, it's been fun, Felsi, but I better go."

Everard couldn't believe the words that came from Felsi's mouth next, "Wait! You're leaving? You just got here. I haven't called you a shaft-rat yet…"

Oghren immediately brightened up at that and replied, "Oh, you can't keep the Archdemon waiting. You hurt its feelings, it might just turn the whole Blight around and go home. Nobody wants that."

_Actually, I'd love for it to be that simple, _Everard mused.

"Well…you don't need to fight it right now, do you? I mean, you could have a pint first. You could call me a surly bronto, I could tell you that you smell like nug droppings…"

"I tell you what. I got some things I gotta do, but I'll come back for that pint when things're settled. You frigid deepstalker."

"Fine. But you'd better not keep me waiting, you worthless copper-plated sword-caste."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

_You have got to be kidding me, _Everard thought. _Did that really just happen? Andraste's flaming arse, that _worked?

__Oghren led the way out of the inn and, the moment they left, Oghren turned to Everard and chuckled, "Heh. I still got it."

"You're sure that was a success?" Everard asked, still a little stunned by how well that confrontation had actually gone.

"Weren't you watching? She could barely restrain herself!" Oghren replied. "Might as well rest up while I can. You ready to go?"

"Yes," Everard sighed. "But I think only Dagna and I should go to the Circle. There's no point in making everyone come along."

"We're really going?" Dagna said, beaming. "Oh, I can't wait!"

"Have you ever been on a boat?" Everard asked her as they made their way to the others.

"A what?" She replied.

"You'll find out soon enough," Everard smirked.

Once he'd relayed his decision to go alone with Dagna to the others, he gave Leliana some coin and told her to see if there were rooms available at the inn.

"I'm sure there are since not many people would probably decide to travel during a Blight," he told her.

"Then I guess that makes it odd that there appeared to be a young dwarven couple staying at the inn?" Leliana replied.

Everard shrugged and said, "I would not worry about them unless they attack you. Also, if a letter arrives for me, I hope that you won't read it."

"Are you expecting one?" Leliana asked.

"Perhaps," he muttered. "Just don't read it. It's bad enough that you did that with my _personal_ letter to my dead mother."

Leliana sighed and replied, "I am sorry for doing that. But Alistair and I were concerned for you."

"It still gave you no right," Everard rejoined. "Now then, Dagna and I are leaving."

"He keeps things to himself for a reason, you know," Zevran commented to Leliana as they watched the dwarf and the mage walk away.

"Why would he keep anything from his friends, though?" Leliana asked.

"You saw how Alistair acted after he found out about Everard's visions," Zevran replied. "Reactions like _that_ are what Everard wants to avoid."

"What're you two talkin' about over there?" Oghren interrupted. "Shouldn't we get a move on and see if there're some rooms at the inn?"

Leliana sighed and nodded. Oghren led the way back into the Spoiled Princess but Zevran stayed behind for a moment to watch as Kester took Everard and Dagna away to the Circle. He was tempted to go after them but…perhaps Everard had a different reason for wanting to go alone.

OoOoOoOoO

**Author's Note: **So, Dagna joined Everard and the others for a bit. Yay! You see, I've always wondered how exactly she got to the Circle Tower. I mean, she couldn't have gone alone and I doubt that Irving or Greagoir would be able to send anyone to fetch her considering the state of the Tower. So, I figured that the Warden took her there but it just wasn't ever shown or alluded to.

But what you're probably really curious about is Everard's father. You don't ever hear anything about Revka's husband, so I took my own liberties with him. I named him Jonah because I love that name. And I made him half-elven because I liked the idea of Everard being a quarter Elvish. And Everard's brother? Well, in Dragon Age II, Leandra actually says that 'they' took _all_ of Revka's children to the Circle. This implies that Revka has more than one mage child. Also, I made Fausten her father because, in the Amell codex entry, it doesn't actually say who he's related to. In the Dragon Age Wiki, it says that he was a head of the family. And I made Damion her brother since he didn't have any specific person he was related to either. The family tree on the Dragon Age Wiki also didn't have Revka's branch of the family on it, which I found a little odd. (Random note: Astride is Leandra's father, which probably means that Fausten is Astride's brother since Leandra and Revka are said to be cousins.)

And then we have Zevran and Everard. They are, in fact, beginning to have more feelings for each other than either of them probably thought possible. (Zevran has many reasons why he never imagined himself falling in love (again) and Everard always thought that love was fleeting.) To be honest, I never saw Morrigan and Everard staying together forever because she didn't seem like the type to like commitment and Everard figured that neither of them would truly love the other. As for Leliana, I couldn't imagine her and Everard together since sometimes her religious talk can irritate. And Everard's not too keen about the Chantry. Alistair wasn't an option either because, right away, I knew that he and Everard would be more like brothers who sometimes tease each other and sometimes want to smack each other. So, I went with Zevran because he and Everard are…similar. And I figured Everard would be able to more easily fall in love with someone similar to himself. Now, right now, they aren't at the "Oh, I love you" stage. But they'll get there. Eventually. If that bothers you then…that's fine. Who knows? You might end up liking this pairing.


End file.
